Once in a Blue Moon
by Titan5
Summary: After being kidnapped and sold into slavery, the team tries to stay out of trouble until they escape or are rescued. Shep whump, of course.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Once in a Blue Moon

**Author:** Titan5

**Spoilers:** Brief references to events up through season 5.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own or have any rights to Stargate Atlantis – because if I did they wouldn't be cancelled.

**Summary:** The team is kidnapped and sold into slavery. The real trick is staying out of trouble until they're rescued. Sheppard whump, as always.

**Note:** This was written for the Gen Ficathon 2009 for the prompt "blue moon". Thank you to everybetty for the beta. I made a few last minute adjustments, so all mistakes are mine.

**Once in a Blue Moon – Chapter 1**

"Finally, a good mission!" exclaimed Rodney, reaching up to pick something out of his teeth.

"What do you mean by that?" asked John, bringing up the rear of the group marching almost single file down the path through the woods.

Finishing his task, Rodney shrugged. "Oh, you know, a mission where no one tries to kill us or kidnap us, the natives are friendly and feed us lots of delicious food . . . a good mission."

"We have good missions, Rodney," observed Teyla.

"Yeah, once in a blue moon," mumbled the scientist. "You do remember that this is our first off-world mission in three months because it took us this long to recover from M3D-499."

"It wasn't anyone's fault that the outpost picked right when we were in it to collapse. At least no one attacked us," observed John.

"This mission doesn't even really count," said Ronon. "This isn't even a mission. The Alcatians invite us to their Festival of the Harvest every year because we've been trading with them for four years."

"Exactly my point," continued Rodney. "Woolsey sent us on this because he felt like it was a safe trip and we couldn't possibly get into trouble."

"Woolsey sent us on this because we're the ones that made first contact and Deerdan expects us to come," said John. "Although I'm sure that he didn't mind our first trip off world in a while being an easy one. And we've had plenty of good missions, Rodney. What about M6X-224? You got a couple of pieces of Ancient technology from there."

Rodney stopped and turned around to stare at John as if he'd sprouted antlers. "You _do _remember that nasty little storm while we were trying to leave, right? The one that overflowed the banks of the river, bringing the snakes, including the one that bit you in the leg."

John smiled sheepishly as he shifted his pack. "Oh, yeah, that. Still, the natives were very helpful with the antidote. What about P6C-441?"

"Pegasus version of flea bites. Our legs itched for three weeks," Rodney deadpanned as he continued down the trail. "Then there's the mudslide on G3T-779, the Wraith attack on M2G-505, the civil war we walked into on both –"

"Okay! I get it!" John snapped. "We have bad timing."

Rodney laughed and slapped his thigh. "Oh, this is way past bad timing, my good friend."

"What, are you saying we're cursed or something?" asked John, his voice reflecting his annoyance.

"I don't believe in curses," Rodney answered. "I'm just saying-"

Ronon's fist going up as he froze in his tracks had them all going silent and on alert, scanning the surrounding trees in the increasing darkness. John was on the verge of asking Ronon what was wrong when the Satedan pointed to the trees at his left and then nodded at John. John pointed to Ronon and then forward of their position and then pointed to himself and behind in an arc that ended where Ronon had indicated. The big man nodded his understanding and began circling forward. As John moved to circle around the other way, he indicated Rodney and Teyla should stay there. Teyla nodded while Rodney just looked confused.

He was almost to the trees when John heard a grunt behind him. He turned in time to see Rodney crumple to the ground, followed quickly by Teyla. A sting in his thigh made him look down to see a dart sticking out of the muscle. _Oh crap, not again. _He didn't even feel it when he hit the ground.

oOo

John opened his eyes and squinted, the light driving stakes through his eye sockets. A moan escaped his lips before he had a chance to silence it, bringing Teyla to his side.

"John?"

"Hey," he said, pushing himself into a sitting position and then waiting on the room to settle down. "You okay?" he asked, noticing her drawn features and glassy eyes.

"I will be fine," she said. Her lips were pursed together in a way that told him her stomach felt as unsettled as his did. The narrowed eyes told about her headache as well.

"Yeah, me too," he responded grimly. Ronon was standing next to the wall, looking more like the wall was holding him up than the other way around. Moving his eyes around the room, he noticed Rodney lying against the adjacent wall, his mouth open as a small trail of drool ran down his cheek. The scientist snorted once and then jerked his head up before moaning and then easing back down to the floor.

"Oh, God, what happened and why does my mouth taste like sweaty socks?"

John had to grin. The taste in his mouth had given him the same thought upon waking. "We were drugged. The question is by whom. Have you guys seen anyone yet?" he asked, looking from Teyla to Ronon.

"Nope," responded the large Satedan. "We woke up just a few minutes before you did. All we know is the door is locked."

"It's pretty sad when you can't even trust the Alcatians," said Rodney, moving around to prop himself up against the wall as he scrubbed his face with one hand.

"I do not believe the Alcatians had anything to do with this," said Teyla, frowning at Rodney.

"I don't either," said John. "We've been going there for years and it's common knowledge we attend the festival every year. We're going to have to quit being so predictable."

"We'll just have to wait and see who shows up," said Ronon.

"Great," muttered Rodney. "My heart's all aflutter." Sighing heavily, the scientist looked at John. "I revise my earlier statement. We don't even have good missions once in a blue moon."

"Rodney," John drawled.

"What is a blue moon?" asked Teyla.

"On Earth, we usually have one full moon a month, twelve in a year," explained Rodney. "The timing isn't exactly for one a month, though, so the extra days in each cycle build up to where every two or three years, we end up with an extra full moon. When you have that extra full moon, it's the second one in a month and it's called a blue moon."

"So when you say once in a blue moon . . . " Teyla started, obviously trying to put the phrase in context.

"It's a metaphor indicating that an event doesn't happen very often," John filled in. Glancing at Rodney with a smirk, he said, "They probably could have done without the astronomy lesson."

"Well excuse me for trying to answer the question," huffed Rodney.

John opened his mouth to respond, but sounds approaching the room they were in quickly garnered everyone's attention and motivated him to get to his feet. The door burst open a few seconds later and four men piled in, spreading across that end of the room. They were all dressed in simple clothing, brown or tan pants with short-sleeved shirts of various colors. Three of them were armed with guns that looked suspiciously like Genii.

The only man that was unarmed looked around at the team, his eyes stopping on John. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard," he announced with a grin. He was John's height, but built heavier. His brown hair was thinning, but his beard was full and thick.

John stepped forward and approached the man until the guy next to him trained his gun on the pilot in a threatening manner that obviously meant for John to come no closer. "Well, you know my name, even though we haven't properly been introduced, but I don't know yours. Care to clear that up? While you're at it, you can tell us where we are and what the hell you think you're doing."

With a rough laugh, the man crossed his arms. "I don't have to tell you anything, but as it happens, I don't see that it will hurt. My name is Batair. Where you are is unimportant, as you will not be here much longer."

"So you're letting us go," said John, purposely not posing it as a question.

Batair laughed again and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Colonel. You are worth a lot of money." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper which he carefully unfolded. "This is why you were taken," he said, handing the paper to John.

Snickering, John showed the bounty poster of him to the others before turning to hand it back to Batair. "Well, that's going to be a problem. You see that poster is old and out of date. We now have an alliance with the man who circulated those and he won't be paying you for us. He will, however, contact our people so that they can come rescue us and you aren't going to be happy with those results. Our technology is just a bit more advanced than that of the Genii." He leaned forward into Batair's personal space and lowered his voice. "My men will tear . . this . . place . . up. You'll be lucky if you're alive when this is over."

Turning around, John walked across the room and slid down the wall to sit in the floor. "Go ahead, call Ladon. Be sure and tell him John Sheppard said hello."

Batair's face was red and getting redder as he stood glaring at John. He finally stormed from the room, leaving the three bewildered guards to stand awkwardly for a moment before following him out. The sound of the lock engaging was loud and pronounced.

"Well, that went well," said Rodney.

"I thought so," John said smugly.

Three hours later, Batair and returned, this time with a half dozen armed men. "Tie them up," he ordered, standing beside the door.

"Was I right?" John asked, grunting slightly as two men jerked his arms behind his back and bound them tightly. "I'll take that as a yes. You know, if you just return us right now, I can assure you that my people won't exact retribution for our kidnapping."

"I can't take that chance," said Batair nervously. John was just beginning to realize how shook up the man was, making him wonder if he'd pushed too hard. "Radim doesn't know who we are. My agent went through another trader and used a false name for his inquiries, so your people shouldn't be able to track us down. But just in case, we're getting rid of you now so that there is no evidence of your presence."

"What?" Rodney stuttered. "No, wait, he's telling the truth. Let us go and nothing will happen to you. He's the military commander of our base, so he can promise stuff like that."

"Rodney," John snapped.

Batair's face paled considerably. "The military commander? Oh my. We must hurry."

"Wait," John said as they began dragging him through the door. "Where are you taking us? We can work something out."

"I have already made arrangements," said Batair firmly. "You are being sold to someone who needs workers on another planet. That way you will be far from here. What happens to you after that is not my concern."

"You cannot do this," said Teyla. "Surely you do not think it is acceptable to buy and sell other humans for profit. You referred to being a trader earlier. Trading is an honorable task, this is not."

"We do what we have to in order to survive," Batair said, not meeting any of their eyes.

"There are other ways," said Ronon gruffly, his expression hard and his eyes dark.

"We aren't discussing this," snapped Batair, shoving John forward, causing him to lose his balance and run face-first into the wall. With his hands tied behind his back, he had no way to recover and bounced off the wall to hit the floor on his side, jarring his shoulder.

"That was uncalled for," shouted Teyla, trying to surge forward to get to John. The guard next to her grabbed her and restrained her. It took three guards to keep Ronon from bolting.

"I'm okay, guys," John said as Batair helped the guard pull him to his feet. Blood trailed down his lip and chin and he'd left a smear on the wall. "Just one more thing to tell Lorne about when they find us."

"And they will find us," said Rodney. "They always do. You'd be a lot better off letting us go."

Batair whirled around and grabbed Rodney's shirt. "You will shut up now or you'll get worse than your friend. What's done is done and I can't take it back."

"Let it alone, Rodney," said John, trying to rub some of the blood off his face against his left shoulder. His right shoulder was bruised and sore. He straightened to look square at Batair. "Just don't say we didn't warn you or offer a way out, because when they come, they'll come hard." Not waiting on a response, he turned away from the troubled leader and fell in step with the guard directing him down the long hallway. He had no idea what they were heading into, but they were alive and they were together. These people had obviously contacted Ladon and John had no doubt that the Genii leader would contact Atlantis. Not out of loyalty, but out of fear. Help would come, they just had to be prepared to wait a while. It was the waiting that sometimes got tricky.

oOo

The walk to the gate was short, as was the trip through. They stepped out into warm sunshine and a gentle breeze. A wagon hitched to four large animals that looked like long-legged donkeys with huge ears awaited their arrival. Two men stood beside the animals, apparently waiting for their arrival. One of the men stepped forward, a rifle in his hands.

"Is one of you Batair?" he asked, his dark brown eyes searching them warily. His face was leathery and wrinkled, showing many years of hard work in the sun.

"I am," Batair said. "These are the four I promised. Do you have payment?"

"I got it, but I need to look over the merchandise first," the old man said as he stepped forward, frowning as he approached John. "This one's bleedin'."

"Accident on the way," explained Batair. "He, uh, tripped."

The man narrowed his eyes and then grinned and nodded. "Yeah, that happens. Slaves get kind of clumsy sometimes."

John's eyes glittered dangerously as he tried and failed to keep quiet. "What, only two men?"

"That's all I need, mister," replied the old, dusty stranger. "Here, I'll show you." He immediately jabbed the butt of the gun into John's stomach, doubling him over and dropping him to his knees. John struggled for air, wondering not for the first time why he couldn't just keep his mouth shut in times like these.

A growl from Ronon brought the guard nearest to him around to knock him in the head with his gun.

The old guy laughed. "Well, we know these two have spirit. We can break that spirit and focus their energy into getting some work done." He wandered over to Teyla and looked at her up and down, the lust in his eyes undisguised. "The woman will do nicely for household chores." He wandered over to Rodney and sighed. "What am I supposed to do with this one?"

"Hey," Rodney protested.

"He's supposed to be very smart," suggested Batair. "I heard you have problems with your irrigation system. Perhaps he could fix that."

The old guy shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, we have problems with that piece of unkel all the time. If could really make it work properly, Master Glendon would be very happy. And when he's happy, we all sleep better." Old guy turned around and walked quickly back to the wagon, pulling out a cloth bag and bringing it over to Batair. Taking the bag, the kidnapper looked inside and smiled.

"Yes, this will do nicely. It has been good to do business with you."

"Yeah, yeah. Let us know if you find others. We are clearing new fields and having to haul water. We need more manpower or we'll start losing harvest."

Batair barely acknowledged the statement, quickly dialing and taking his men back through the gate. When the wormhole shut down, Old Guy pointed his rifle toward the back of the wagon. "You'll need to be climbing in now. If you try anything, this will pump you full of holes."

"Of course it will," muttered Rodney. "Got any more cool cliché's? Perhaps you'd care to try _make my day, _or the ever popular _do you feel lucky?_"

Old Guy looked slightly confused and then frowned at the team. "Just get in the wagon."

"That's a little difficult with our hands tied behind our back," John pointed out. "Maybe you could untie us."

"Not gonna happen. Get in! Now!"

"Fine," said Rodney walking over to the wagon and leaning over to wiggle in on his belly. As he turned over, Ronon backed up to the wagon and squirmed in on his rear end, backing up to the side. After a moment of his mouth hanging open, Rodney sighed. "Well, yeah, that would have worked too."

Once Teyla and John were in, the back of the wagon was closed and they took off down the road, which was actually more like a rocky and uneven path through the countryside. Old Guy drove while the silent man with him pointed his gun at them, sneering every once in a while to let them know he was to be feared . . . or something like that.

The thirty minute trip seemed to take hours, what with the spine-jolting ride from Hades. John was pretty sure his bruises had bruises by the time they arrived at their new home . . . or rather prison. The wagon moved past fields of some kind of crop that stretched for acres upon acres before stopping in front of a large, sprawling brown house of painted wood. If it had been two-stories and painted white, John would have equated it with a plantation. A well-dressed man in his early thirties, with sandy hair to his shoulders and a ratty looking goatee strolled out of the house.

Old guy jumped out of the wagon and bowed to the dolled up guy from the house. "Master Glendon, I have the new workers and I think you'll be well pleased." The man with the gun ushered them all out of the wagon to stand before their new master.

Glendon studied each of them in turn before putting his hands on his hips. "What are your plans for them, Tynan?"

"I would put the big one in the new fields to help pull stumps and clear the land." He pointed to John next. "That one should be a good worker for the fields. He's strong and healthy. And don't worry 'bout the blood none. He tripped on the way to meet us and bloodied his nose is all." Both men snickered at this, making John fairly seethe with anger.

"Then I figure the woman would be good to work in the house since she's easy on the eyes." Glendon nodded and grinned at Teyla, to which she responded by narrowing her eyes. John knew that look and it didn't bode well for anyone that tried to mess with her. Tynan then pointed to Rodney. "The soft one is supposed to be good at fixin' stuff, so I figured we'd put him to work on the water system."

Glendon nodded, looking satisfied both by his acquisition and his servant's plans for them. "I approve, Tynan. Good work." He stepped forward, obviously intending to address the team with his next round of prose. "I am your new owner and you will address me as either Master, or Master Glendon. If your service is sufficient and you do not cause trouble, you will be treated well. We have a bunk house for all the slaves, with the exception of those who work in the house." With the last statement, he stepped over to Teyla and leaned in close to her face. "You will be allowed quarters in the house and we'll have some nicer clothes to put you in," he said, nuzzling her cheek next to his.

The building fury spilled over and John lunged at Glendon, knocking the man to the ground before his servants could react. "You will keep your hands off her or I'll kill you," John yelled, pulling against the two burly men who had run from the side of the house and jerked John to his feet. Gun guy had his rifle trained on Ronon, who had stepped forward to join John, and two more guards had weapons trained on Rodney and Teyla. Tynan reached out and helped his master to his feet.

Glendon was red faced and furious as he stepped up to John. "I am your master, your owner . . . and you best not ever forget that again!"

"You're a lot of things, but you don't own me. You don't own any of us! We may be your prisoners until our people come for us, but we'll never belong to you. You can't really own anyone unless they let you and that will never happen. And if you hurt any member of my team, I . . will . . kill . . you." John was panting and he could feel a vein in his neck throbbing from the adrenalin and anger.

Hardening his expression, Glendon glared at John. "I take it you are the leader of this group. In that case, you are the one I need to break, and break you I will. You do belong to me, no matter what you want to tell yourself. And you will obey me, you will work for me, and you will behave . . . or you will suffer the consequences until you do . . . no matter how long that takes." He looked at John a few more moments before punching him in the face, then the stomach, then the face again, all in quick succession while his men held John up. When John's head cleared enough he could raise it and look back up at Glendon, the man smiled. "And if you ever strike me again, you will be killed . . . and it will not be fast."

Walking back over to Tynan, Glendon rubbed his knuckles, red with John's blood. "Take the men down to the bunk house and assign them a bed. They can start work today." He motioned to a woman who'd been hovering just inside the door. She was an older woman, in her fifties with partially grayed hair pulled tight in a bun. "Grainne, take the new girl and get her settled, then began showing her to her duties."

Grainne motioned nervously for Teyla to join her. Teyla looked back at her teammates, being loaded back in the wagon. John nodded to her and silently mouthed "hang on", to which she briefly tipped her head once before following the older woman into the large house. As the wagon pulled away, John glared at Glendon, hoping his message about not messing with Teyla was getting through.

When they were away from the house, Rodney elbowed John in the upper arm. "Idiot, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Anger once again boiled inside John. "Did you see the way he was pawing all over Teyla? I wasn't going to stand there and let that happen."

"Not that, you moron," Rodney hissed. "I meant the rest of it. You really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut."

"No, he was right," stated Ronon, looking seriously at John.

"W-What?" Rodney sputtered.

Ronon nodded his head once toward John, who was a little surprised at the support. "Sheppard's right. We don't belong to anyone unless we give up. They can make us work and maybe even call that fancy dressed guy Master, but it still doesn't make us slaves unless we let it."

"Right," John agreed, still a little baffled at Ronon, but convinced that his earlier proclamation had been correct. "Look, it may take a while, but Atlantis will find us. Those guys that took us are obvious amateurs. Just think about how old those wanted posters are. I'm betting they left a trail, whether they think they were being careful or not. We just need to keep things together until they get here."

"Well, that includes staying alive, so maybe you should consider putting a muzzle on it occasionally," suggested Rodney.

Grimacing, John admitted to himself that sometimes his need to force some control into matters ended up costing him dearly. At the moment, he was bruised and bloody, but not seriously injured. That could change in a hurry. "Fine, I'll try . . . to be more careful."

"Well, then . . . " Rodney paused as he lost some of his bluster. "Okay. I mean, that's good, right?"

"Right," John said, hoping he would be able to abide by his promise, but knowing his actions would be dictated by the way his team was treated.

The wagon jolted to a stop in front of a long, gray building. Old Guy, or rather Tynan, and Gun Guy bailed out of the front and then indicated the three should get out. John took the lead, noting as he squirmed out of the wooden vehicle that Gun Guy had the rifle trained on him.

"Relax," John said as he waited on his teammates. "I'm not stupid enough to jump you, at least not here in the middle of your little setup." The gun lowered barely an inch as the man considered John's words. Tynan pulled out a large knife and held it up so that the sunlight reflected off the blade and into their faces.

"I'm going to cut your bindings now while Kerr looks on. If you make a move he doesn't like, he'll shoot you. Now turn around."

The three of them turned around so the older man could get to their wrists and remove the leather straps that bound them. When his arms were free, John didn't resist the temptation to rub the abraded skin as he turned around.

"What now?" asked Ronon, also rubbing his wrists.

Tynan nodded toward the building they were standing in front of. "In there. I'll get you a bunk assigned and then we'll put you to work. Still several more ferrins of daylight left and you might as well get some use of 'em."

John led the way into the building. It was long, with a row of bunk beds down each side. Open windows also lined the long walls, situated between the bunks for maximum air flow. The building itself was wood and the floor a type of crude concrete. With Kerr and his gun bringing up the rear, Tynan now led the way down the center of the room, finally stopping to point at the last two bunks on the left.

"These are yours."

The mattress looked ridiculously thin, but at least there was one. Each bed had sheets and a blanket folded up on top of it, as well as a skinny pillow. The bedding was stained, but looked clean at least. John had to admit, they had been in worse conditions that this.

"You can make your beds after work," Tynan said. "Personal needs can be tended to in there," he said pointing to a door near their bunks. Rodney moved to look in the room, although John had a good idea what it was.

"How quaint, a communal bath and toilet. And we're lucky enough to have our beds right beside it. Great . . just great. So, could this day _get_ any better?"

"Rodney," John drawled with warning in his voice.

"Hey, I'm just saying," the scientist said, shrugging his shoulders.

Tynan pointed to John. "You may wash your face before I take you to the fields. The sweat will make the dried blood itch."

His hand coming up to his face automatically, John ran his fingers along the dried blood that made his skin feel too tight. "Oh, yeah, . . . uh, thanks." He made his way to their version of the bathroom, a little surprised at the gesture. Four large sinks adorned one wall with what appeared to be the equivalent of faucets. John fiddled with one until he got some water flowing and then washed the blood off his face and neck. There were no towels, so he just brushed as much excess water off as he could while examining the rest of the room. There were several large shower stalls, each with one large spray device in the middle, making it obvious that they bathed in groups. The open arrangement made the military seem like a privacy haven. No wonder McKay was so distraught.

"You must come now!" barked Tynan, standing at the door.

"Yeah, coming," John said, following the man back into the larger room.

"Come and I will show you to your new duties. You will work til sundown, at which time you will return here to be fed and rest."

As they followed Tynan out the door, Rodney muttered, "Gee, I can hardly wait."

oOo

By the time they returned to the bunk house, John was soaked in sweat and exhausted. He'd been taken to a large field to work with around fifty or sixty others in hand-weeding whatever crop was growing there. The plants had little hairs that he soon learned made your arms and hands itch like crazy, along with making large red welts that the sweat burned and stung. Most of the workers were men, although a few women also worked the fields. He guessed they weren't suitable for the house.

His team had apparently arrived mid morning, because after a few hours work, the whole group was allowed to sit down and have a cup of water and a piece of bread. There was no fighting over the food, each person merely taking what they were given and doing exactly what they were told. It was obvious they had been slaves so long as to not even question their lives of service any more. It made John sad for them and even more determined that it would never happen to him or his team.

After a few minutes rest, the men were rounded up to haul water. Apparently they had an irrigation system, but the pump was currently out. That meant that the men hauled buckets of water about a quarter of a mile between the river and a large tank from which the water was distributed. John and several others were fitted with a wooden apparatus that fit over his shoulders. The equivalent of a five-gallon bucket hung from hooks at each end. Men stationed at the river filled the buckets and hung them so that John could walk them to another set of workers at the tanks who removed the buckets and emptied them. When the buckets were replaced, John walked back to the river to get more. After a while, his world narrowed to one step in front of the other as muscles began to quiver and burn under the strain.

When a loud bell rang at dusk to signal the end of the work day, John could barely follow the others back to the bunkhouse to collapse on the bed. He could hear some of the others already hitting the showers, but he didn't have the energy. It had been a long time since he'd put in a day of physical labor that intense. And he was pretty sure he'd pulled a muscle in his back when his foot had slipped in the loose dirt going up the bank of the river. The heavy buckets of water had seriously messed with his ability to catch himself. He'd managed to keep from tumbling down the bank in the river, but the sideways jerk had stretched some muscle beyond its normal range.

"Hey, I want the lower bunk. Get up Sheppard." John recognized the whine in Rodney's voice without rolling over and looking at the scientist. He continued to lie on his belly, almost unable to move.

"Tough day, Sheppard?" That was Ronon.

"Umph," was all he could manage in reply.

"Seriously, get your sweaty carcass off my mattress," said Rodney.

John managed to get his right hand under him and pushed enough to roll over on his back. Rodney had a few streaks of grease on his face and uniform, but otherwise seemed okay. Ronon, like himself, was covered with sweat, his shirt tied around his waist and a fine mist of dust clinging to his damp skin. "I honestly don't think I can move," he groaned.

Rodney's expression morphed form annoyed to mildly sympathetic as he stood eyeing John's reddened forearms. "Oh. What did they do to you?"

With a sigh, John lifted one arm to look at it briefly before letting it drop back to the bed. "They didn't _do_ anything to me. I spent part of the day weeding some plant that itches worse than poison ivy and the afternoon hauling water from the river to some tank. I'm pretty sure I used muscles I had forgotten I had."

Ronon chuckled. "Told you that you were getting soft."

"Thanks, Chewie," John said with a grimace. "So what did you guys do?"

"Pulled up tree stumps," said Ronon with a grin.

John groaned and rolled his eyes. "Figures." And here he was so tired he could barely lift his hand off the bed. He must really be getting old.

"You'll be happy to know I've been working on the irrigation system, so hopefully you won't have to haul water much longer. The pump is out and of course, they don't have anything remotely resembling spare parts or decent tools, so . . . it might take a couple of days." Rodney shrugged his shoulders, looking mildly apologetic.

"Great," John drawled. Pushing himself up to his elbows, he glanced past his friends to look at the people coming down the center aisle. There had been a steady stream the whole time they talked, but someone approaching caught his attention. Recognizing the figure, John sat straight up, barely noticing how the sudden motion pulled painfully on his back. "Teyla?" he breathed out.

Ronon and Rodney whirled around just as Teyla walked up to stand beside them. "I was told I could find you here," she said. They looked at her for a moment as she studied each of them in turn, eventually raising one eyebrow. "I was told I was not suitable for working in the main house."

It was then John noticed the bruising around her left eye, which brought him to his feet. "Teyla?" Reaching out, he gently touched the side of her face near the discolored area. "Who did this?" he gritted out between his teeth, feeling the anger rise and overcome the exhaustion from before. He could feel as much as see Ronon clenching and unclenching his fist next to him.

Remaining calm, Teyla smiled and once again arched an eyebrow. "Glendon . . . " her smile deepened. "Or rather, Master Glendon, put his hand somewhere I felt inappropriate. I may have been a bit forceful when I advised of my desire for him to remove his hand."

"Glendon did that?" asked Ronon.

Teyla shook her head. "No, he was busy screaming that I had broken his hand. Bastiaan, one of the house guards, struck me with his elbow when he was pushing me away from Master Glendon. He wanted to punish me further, but Grainne suggested that I should work in the fields instead. I believe at this point they just wanted to get me away from house, so they agreed. And here I am. Where do I sleep?"

Rodney stood slack-jawed a moment and then looked over at the pair of bunk beds. "I get the other bottom bunk, so you need to take a top one."

"No she doesn't," said John. "Ronon and I can both take a top bunk. Hey, does that mean you're staying here . . . with the men?"

Teyla sighed and waved her arm down the opposite wall. "John, all the women who work in the fields stay here. I was told there are not enough to make a separate dwelling. We do have a separate bathing area though, so do not worry."

Looking around the room, John realized she was right. The other women who had been working in the field were scattered among the bunks in small groups. "Oh, right. Guess I didn't notice." He looked back down at Teyla, who was grinning impishly at him. "Well, I'm sorry your housing arrangements just got more crude, but I'm really glad you're here with us. I want us to stay together as much as possible."

"As do I," she replied. "I think I prefer the work of the fields to that of the house. The dress they gave me to wear was . . . not to my liking."

"I can just imagine," muttered Rodney. He leaned over to feel the mattress. "I hope you didn't get the mattress all sweaty because that's just gross."

John, Ronon, and Teyla laughed, which annoyed Rodney. The scientist looked like he was winding up for one of his tirades, but instead frowned. "Incoming," he whispered.

A man John had seen earlier, about Rodney's height with long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail walked up to them with a pile of clothing in his arms. He was accompanied by a shorter man with a gun. "I am Calais, keeper of this dwelling. I have brought you each two changes of clothing. You may also keep your current coverings if you so desire. You are responsible for the upkeep of your clothes, including washing and mending. You will be given one day a week in which to rest and take care of cleaning your clothes and bed coverings. You are expected to keep your area clean at all times so that unwanted creatures are not attracted to the building. The two occupants of a bunk are expected to share storage space," he said, pointing to a small cabinet that sat between the beds.

John nodded, now understanding why the place was so clean. He was relieved, having spent so much of his captivity time in dirty, damp dungeon-like cells sleeping on the cold floor or some musty hay. Waiting on rescue this time was going to be a cake walk . . . except for the hauling water part. He rubbed at the ache reawakened in his back.

"What about soap and toothpaste and a toothbrush?" asked Rodney.

"The bathing area always has a good supply of cleaning agents. I do not know of this tooth . . . paste."

"Don't you people clean your teeth?" asked Rodney, demonstrating with his finger. "You know, clean the food and gunk off your teeth so they don't rot and fall out."

The man shrugged his shoulders. "Some that have been brought here use a little cleaning agent on their finger and rub their teeth as you do."

"Soap? They use soap?" Rodney asked, his voice high-pitched and whiney.

"There is nothing else. Do as you wish," the man said. He looked at Teyla. "Have you been shown where the women clean themselves?"

"No, I was told to ask one of the women here and they would show me," she said.

Calais nodded. "That is acceptable. Do not go past this door," he said, pointing to the communal bath Rodney and John had seen earlier. "This is where the men bathe and it is forbidden for the men and women to enter the area meant for the other. There will also be no joining unless approved by Master Glendon. Pregnant women in the field are not much use. Punishment for breaking this rule is death."

"For the man or for the woman," asked Ronon, his arms crossed and his stance challenging.

"Both," said Calais firmly.

"Well, as long as they're fair," John said lightly. "Don't worry, we aren't going to be . . .uh, doing that."

Nodding, Calais handed out the clothing. He had obviously studied them earlier to decide what sizes to get them. "The evening meal is shortly. You may clean up first if you like." With a nod, he and the bodyguard with him left.

Now that John was on his feet, he really wanted to wash off the sweat and dirt. If the water was actually warm, it might help loosen his already stiffening muscles. "What do you say we wash off a bucket or two of dirt and sweat?" he asked.

Rodney looked forlornly at the shower area. "I . . . uh. . . I'm not that dirty. Maybe I'll just wait til later."

"What about you big guy?" asked John. He wasn't relishing the idea of the public shower either, but he really wanted to be clean.

"I'm game," said Ronon. "Our showers weren't much different than this in the military barracks," he said.

"Yeah, some of my postings haven't been all that private either," said John. He picked out one of the sets of clean clothing and threw the other on the top bunk. "See you guys in a few for supper," he said, heading for what he hoped was a hot shower.

"And there's another reason I never joined the military," Rodney said.

oOo

The shower wasn't as bad as John had feared, with everyone pretty much minding their own business and staring at the floor. The water wasn't cold, but it wasn't really warm either. It got them clean, but did nothing for John's aching muscles. The clothes Calais had given them were clean, if used and a little thread-bare. Ronon's pants were about four inches too short.

For supper they were taken to an adjacent building that John originally thought had been another wing of the barracks. Long tables with benches were arranged into three rows. The team stood in line to get a bowl of watery stew, a piece of dry bread, and a cup of water. It didn't take them long to eat and then they deposited their dishes in a trough at one end of the room. No need for the kitchen staff to worry about left-over food since everyone there John could see practically licked their bowl clean. It would keep them alive, but not much else.

"Well, that was tasty," said Rodney as they sat on the bottom bunks, John and Teyla on one and Ronon and Rodney on the other. It was dark now and a string of lights was hung down each side of the room, casting a low yellowish light.

"We've had worse," said Ronon.

"Yeah, I guess we have," Rodney admitted. "So what now?"

"Nothing's changed," said John. "I still believe Atlantis will come for us. We need to stay out of trouble until then."

"So we just act like slaves until then?" asked Ronon, his tone angry.

"Yes and no," John answered, understanding the Satedan's anger. "We _act _like good little slaves . . . while looking for a chance to escape," he said quietly.

"But . . . but wait," Rodney sputtered. "If we try to escape, we could get shot or killed . . . or worse. What if we get caught? No, no, no, we should just wait on Atlantis. You just said they were coming."

John patted the air with his hand. "Keep it quiet," he hissed. "I do think they'll come for us, but I don't know that for sure and I don't know how long it could take. Look, I don't know about you, but being a slave isn't my favorite way to spend the day. And while things aren't bad right now, we all know how fast things can go downhill."

"Well, that's true," Rodney admitted.

"Look, just keep your eyes open for possibilities, weakness in their system, things we could use for weapons . . . anything that could help." John started to lean forward and rest his forearms on his thighs, but stopped and groaned when his back protested.

"John?" Teyla inquired, looking worried.

With a weak smile, John rubbed at his lower back on the right side. "I . . . uh, kind of strained a muscle in my back. I got a little off balance carrying those buckets of water up the river bank and I guess I zigged a little more than I zagged."

"Lie down," Teyla said.

"What?"

"I said lie down, on your stomach," she commanded, getting up to allow him room to maneuver.

As John began to slowly comply, he heard the other two snicker. "Better do what she says or she'll kick your butt too," said Rodney.

"Shut up, McKay," he snapped.

His back was well and truly aching by the time he was stretched out on his stomach. The next thing he knew, Teyla was crawling up to straddle his hips. "Uh, Teyla, are you sure that –"

"Shhh, just relax. This will make you feel better." And then her hands were kneading his back in the area he'd been rubbing. "Is this where the pain is?"

An unmanly yelp escaped his lips as she scored a direct hit on the sore muscle. "Yes," he whispered, fisting his hand into the blanket now covering the bed. The pain was excruciating for a few moments, and then began to let up. He moaned, his face buried in the pillow as his grip loosened, Teyla's actions slowly going from painful to soothing. The next time he groaned, it was relief.

oOo

"Time to get up, Sheppard."

"M'comin'," John mumbled into this pillow.

"Sheppard!" This time the verbal alarm was accompanied by a smack to the back of his shoulder. John's head came up as he blinked and licked his dry lips.

"What?" A few more blinks revealed Rodney and Ronon grinning at him. It took John a moment to orient himself and realize he was asleep on his stomach . . . on Teyla's bunk. Glancing around at the room filled with moving people, he pushed himself up until he was sitting on the side of the bed. "Guess I feel asleep."

"No doubt," said Rodney. "You drool, by the way."

"Only when I'm tired and in pain," John came back, trying to stretch out his aching muscles. On the plus side, his back was much better. The burning pain of yesterday had given way to an ache only marginally worse than every other muscle in his body. "Where's Teyla?"

"You mean your personal masseuse?" asked Rodney.

Glaring at the scientist, John pushed himself to his feet. "Funny."

"She's taking care of morning stuff," said Ronon.

"Sounds like a plan," said John, heading out to take care of his own morning business. By the time he returned, Teyla was there and all four bunks were neatly made. "Wow, you guys work fast."

"There wasn't that much to do," said Rodney, stretching as he spoke. "Another night on that mattress and I'll need my own massage session."

John felt himself blush slightly. "About falling asleep on your bed, Teyla . . . I'm sorry . . . I guess . . . I didn't realize how tired I was."

"It is not a problem," she said with a genuine smile. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Actually, I am, thank you. I guess you have magic fingers."

"It is a skill my father taught me. Strained muscles are not unusual among my people."

John smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm glad he taught you so well. Thank you."

"Hey, let's go eat before they run out. I have a feeling this could be a long day," said Rodney.

Several minutes later, they were sitting down to a breakfast of something that looked like soupy oatmeal. John groaned as he stirred his spoon around in the gray mush. One thing was constant everywhere they went, if you were a prisoner and you actually got fed, it was going to be watery. Just because they needed you alive didn't mean they had to keep you well fed. Taking a tentative bite of the food, he sat up a little straighter as his eyebrows shot up. "Hey, this isn't bad. It actually tastes kind of sweet."

"They began adding a little shoahey several cycles ago," a large man with braided brown hair and a full beard said. He had paused across from John and just behind Rodney at hearing John's comment. "It provides a little more energy that way so the master gets more work done."

John studied the man a moment and then let one corner of his mouth twitch upward. "And I'm guessing the workers felt like they'd gotten something special by having their food be little more edible, so they work harder to repay the generous master."

With a broad grin, the man bobbed his head once. "You are the new people. I am Baruch."

"We're the new people," John echoed. "I'm John. This is Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney," he said, introducing the others.

"Uh, Dr. McKay," Rodney said in a slightly annoyed tone. "Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Titles mean very little here," Baruch said, echoing John's thoughts. "Isn't that right, _Colonel_?"

John narrowed his eyes at the man. "You're either a very good listener or you have an inside track."

Baruch laughed and then nodded. "I do listen . . . carefully . . . to everything. I like to know what's going on. I just wanted to give you some advice. Do your work and don't cause trouble. Things run pretty smoothly around here most of the time. As long as we do our work, mind our own business, and clean up after ourselves, we get pretty much left alone. All it takes is one trouble maker to upset the balance we've created here." It didn't feel so much like a warning as just advice to the newcomers.

Ronon glanced around the room and then looked back at Baruch. "People here get along better than most places like this. When I've been held captive before, it seems like everyone was scrambling for each other's food or competing for top bully."

"Our needs are supplied as long as we do not cause trouble. We watch out, all of us, to discourage those who would disrupt things and make all of us suffer."

Eyeing the man, John shrugged one shoulder. "So what makes you think we'll cause trouble."

Baruch chuckled and then nodded toward John's bruised face. "Because I can see that you have already caused trouble. The woman too. And remember, I listen."

"We aren't going out of our way to cause trouble here, but we will defend ourselves and we will defend each other," John said firmly. "And no amount of _discouragement _will change that."

Baruch nodded, not looking upset or surprised either. "That is fair. I have one more piece of advice to give you. Be careful what you discuss in the hearing of others. There are those among us that will share secrets with the master in order to get preferred treatment. Guard your words carefully."

"Thanks for the advice," John said, nodding in appreciation. "We'll do that."

"Enjoy your breakfast," Baruch said as he turned to leave. "Today promises to be a warm one."

oOo

Every day for the next two weeks was a warm one. John was usually working in close proximity to Teyla in the fields, which was fine by him. Ronon sometimes joined them, but more often than not, they used him to help clear new land of stumps and rocks. If possible, it looked to John like the young Satedan's muscles were getting even bigger. He couldn't help but grin at the way the women tried to sneak looks at his teammate when he returned shirtless and glistening with sweat every afternoon.

Rodney fixed the irrigation system in two days and was quickly put on fixing other things around the large plantation. John was glad they were making use of his brain, because he was pretty certain the physicist wouldn't last long in the fields.

The best thing was getting together with his team at the end of the day. The captivity was made bearable by his seeing and talking to them daily, and knowing that they were all okay. They had found a spot outside the barracks, yet far enough to be out of earshot of the other slaves, in which to rest and talk each evening before bed. As long as they were inside before the _lights out _bell rang and didn't stray too far, the guards didn't seem to mind their need for solitude. This was truly the weirdest captivity John had ever been held in.

Plans for escape hadn't progressed very far. It hadn't taken long to discover that the place was well guarded and the guards were armed. The bunkhouse and work areas were situated such that anyone making a run for it would be out in the open for quite a while – long enough to get shot. In asking around, they found it had been several cycles since anyone had tried to get away and they had been shot long before reaching the tree line. No one had tried to help or interfere in any way. Most of the slaves were as docile as lambs.

It was the beginning of the third week when things went down hill and the team found out that the guards were not always benevolent. John and Teyla were harvesting some type of a root crop that was similar to potatoes when one of the older slaves collapsed. It had been brutally hot that day and they had still only been allowed the one water break at midday. Even John was beginning to feel lightheaded at the continued pace the guards had set, yelling at them to work harder and faster. Everyone seemed on edge and John wasn't sure if it was the strangely hot and humid weather or if something had happened.

Being the nearest one to the man who'd collapsed, John immediately went to him. The man's skin was hot to the touch and he'd stopped sweating. A shadow fell across them and John squinted up at the guard who stood over them. "He's having a heat stroke. We need to get him in the shade and get him cooled off, quickly."

"Just drag him off to the side and we'll get the body later," the guard said dispassionately. "He wasn't much use any more anyway. Now get back to work."

John gaped at the man. "He's not dead! We can help him."

"I said drag him out of the way and get back to work. The storms are coming and we have to get the harvest in before they start or we'll lose it. Do what I say slave!" the guard commanded.

Clenching his teeth, John shifted to his knees and then picked the small-framed man up. He was thin and light compared to some of the things John had been forced to haul the last few days. When he passed the edge of the field and continued toward the shade of a cluster of trees, the guard yelled at him to stop and came after him. He had no more than set the man down, when the guard struck him on the back with his rifle.

Enraged by the man's lack of concern for another's life, John lashed out with his leg, sweeping it around to trip the guard. It took him only a moment to knock the gun from the man's hands before punching him twice in the face. He started to get to his feet and find water, but more guards had been attracted to the commotion and were soon on him. There were punches to his ribs, stomach, and face before someone cracked him over the back of the head, delivering him into unconsciousness.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Once in a Blue Moon – Chapter 2**

Teyla watched Ronon approach with a group of slaves while at the same time trying to see John. A large group of guards were gathered at the opposite end of the courtyard between buildings and she was pretty sure John was in the midst of them.

"Hey, Teyla, what's going on?" Ronon asked as he moved closer. Hesitating a moment, she turned to face him and almost winced at the change in expression. His eyes grew dark almost immediately and she could see the anger spread across his face. "What did they do to you?" he grated out.

He stared at her right eye, swollen nearly shut, and then down to the bruises on her arm. "There was . . . an incident," she said carefully.

Ronon suddenly began searching the area, his eyes covering the growing crowd. "Where's Sheppard?" he growled, and then frowned down at her. "What happened?"

"You know how John is . . . an old man collapsed in the fields and the guard told John to drag him to the side and leave him to die. John refused and tried to help the man. There was . . . an altercation."

Nodding toward her face, Ronon's frown deepened. "You tried to help."

"Yes, but I was quickly overpowered. The guards beat John soundly and then brought us all back here to witness his punishment . . . to make an example of him. I am not sure what that punishment is to be, but I believe he is over there, in the middle of the guards," she said.

Clenching his fists, Ronon glared at the cluster of guards. "What happened to the old man?"

A wave of sadness washed over the Athosian woman, making her fight to hold back the tears she felt pushing through. "They shot him and threw his body in the ditch for the caraynians, whatever those are."

With a solemn nod, Ronon grunted. "I overheard the guards talking about them. Large scale-covered beasts that roam the waterways of this world and prey on smaller animals. They said if humans get too close to the ditches and rivers, they are sometimes taken for food."

Teyla gasped slightly as she looked up at Ronon. "Did John not say they made him and some of the others haul water from the river those first days?"

Ronon nodded, his expression dark and angry. "These people didn't seem so bad at first, but now . . . " Trailing off, he returned his gaze to the guards at the far end. "What do you think they'll do to him?"

"I do not know, but we are powerless to stop it," Teyla said with resignation.

The crowd had thickened until they were now packed at one end of the large yard. From the cluster of guards, Glendon swooshed through in his fancy garments and raised his hand for quiet. The silence was immediate, making him smile smugly.

"My friends," Glendon said loudly, his voice carrying across the courtyard. A snort from behind grabbed Ronon and Teyla's attention as Rodney elbowed his way through the throng to join them.

"What's up? They brought me back early for some kind of demonstration or something."

"Nothing good," Ronon mumbled.

"I realize that most of you abide by the rules and faithfully attend to your work," Glendon continued, playing to the crowd with small nods and waving gestures. "Sadly, one of the newcomers has chosen to cause trouble, to shirk his duty and disregard the orders given him."

"What did he do?" Rodney sighed.

Teyla leaned over closer so she could speak softly. "He attempted to help an old man that collapsed from the heat."

"Figures. Always the hero."

"Hey, he was just helping an old man," Ronon hissed, prompting the people nearby to shush them.

The three Lanteans returned their eyes to Glendon and found him staring at them, a wicked grin on his face. "The newcomer Sheppard is subject to punishment for his actions. He will be whipped and then placed in the sweatbox for a period of once light cycle. Let this be an example to all that you do not have the right to question your duties or orders given to you by the guards. Indiscretions will be punished." Turning, he motioned to the guards standing behind him.

There was a brief scuttle of movement and then two guards emerged dragging Sheppard between them. His face was dirty and bloody, his pants torn and his shirt missing. He seemed disoriented, with the guards supporting most of his weight as he stumbled along. His wrists were shackled together with a length of chain barely a foot long, as were his ankles, making movement awkward and difficult. They stopped when they arrived at a huge pole set in the middle of the open area.

A third guard attached a chain to the wrist shackles. The other end of the chain was threaded through a large hook at the top of the pole. Grabbing a metal ring on the other end of the chain, he pulled until John's arms were above his head and his belly was pressed to the pole. The metal ring was hooked onto a spike driven into the pole. A row of them emerged from the side of the pole, giving the guards a choice of several places to anchor the chain depending on the height of their victim.

Ronon started to step forward, but Teyla grabbed his arm. "Ronon," she warned. "There is nothing we can do for him now." He growled, but settled back in his original place.

Glendon spoke to some of the guards, who immediately headed their way. A sense of dread filled Teyla as Rodney groaned, "Oh, no."

The three of them were ushered over to stand beside Glendon, who now held a stick about two feet long with several leather straps wrapped around it and hanging four or five feet off the end. He snapped it down sharply, the ends hitting the ground and sending up a cloud of dust. "Effective, is it not?" he asked. None of them answered and the man's smile disappeared.

"You are Sheppard's friends, his companions. I therefore believe that you are the most likely to cause me trouble in the near future. You will implement the first part of his punishment. You will each give him five strikes of the riona stick. For any strike I do not feel is hard enough, he will receive two more. You will not be doing him any favors if you make your hits soft." Glendon glared at the three, his cold stare making Teyla shiver slightly.

Extending the riona toward Teyla, Glendon said, "You will go first and you will consider yourself lucky that you are not joining him."

Trying desperately to still the shake in her hand, Teyla took the stick and moved closer to John. She silently cursed Glendon, the planet, and the men that had taken them. She didn't know how she would live with herself for doing this to John, but she could not bear the thought of making it worse. So she gripped the stick and struck John's back with all her might before she had a real chance to think about what she was doing. The responding grunt from him was almost enough to undo her.

"Good," Glendon cooed from her side. "Now another."

Horrified at the bloody streaks down his back, she gripped the stick tightly, unsure if she could that four more times. "Forgive me, John," she said softly.

"Again!" Glendon shouted impatiently. She struck John four more times, her shaking increasing with each hit, the tears stinging her eyes until she was looking out through a blur. When she finally handed the stick back to Glendon, she staggered several steps away and vomited on the dry ground, the sounds of her heaving loud in her ears.

"You next," Glendon said from behind her. Ronon wrapped an arm around her, steadying her as they turned to watch Rodney take his turn. The scientist was white as a sheet and she fully expected him to pass out.

"I don't . . . I can't . . . " he stammered, holding awkwardly onto the riona.

"Are you refusing?" asked Glendon.

Rodney glanced down at the riona and then at John's bloody back. Clenching his fist around the stick a little more tightly, he straightened, a look of defiance on his face. "What if I am?"

"Then my man Vendon will kill the woman, Teyla. One shot through that pretty face of hers should do it. So what will it be, five strikes for Sheppard or death for Teyla?"

A strangled moan came from John as he seemed to press himself into the pole to remain standing. "Mm . . . McKay . . . do it."

After opening and closing his mouth a few times, Rodney nodded tightly and gripped the stick. "Right. Five hits. I can do that." Taking a deep breath, he cringed and closed his eyes as he struck out with the riona. The leather straps were off center, barely glancing the side of John's shoulder and arm.

Glendon smiled and crossed his arms. "I count that a miss. You now owe John six strikes."

"No, that's . . . that's not fair . . . I was nervous . . . I've never done this before. You can't . . . please, don't do this," Rodney sputtered.

His face hardening, Glendon pointed to John. "You will keep your eyes open and administer six strikes as hard as you can, or I will shoot Teyla in the head myself. I tire of this. The time is late and I hunger. Decide."

Teyla stepped forward slowly, aware of the guns brought up in her direction. She placed on hand on Rodney's arm. "You have no choice, Rodney. John understands that. The more quickly we get this over with, the better. Be strong . . . for John." She could feel him trembling beneath her touch.

With a deep breath, Rodney nodded and stepped away. Teyla went back to stand beside Ronon and was proud of Rodney when he delivered six strikes in a row that met with Glendon's approval. After handing the stick back to Glendon, he stumbled a few steps and collapsed to the ground. Ronon growled deep in his throat as he stepped up to take his turn.

Kneeling in the dirt beside Rodney, she squeezed his shoulder. Sweat beaded his face and ran down his neck. His face was pale except for his flushed cheeks and he was breathing heavily. "Take slow deep breaths," she advised. "It is almost over." With a slow nod, his breaths seemed to even out and she took his hand. He flinched at first, but then settled against her to watch Ronon inflict his share of the damage.

John hung limply for a moment, before once again pushing himself against the pole for leverage so that he could stand. His sides billowed out with his shallow, rapid breaths and blood mixed with sweat and dirt collected at the waistband of his BDU pants. A low moan escaped his lips each time he attempted to move. Rodney's grip tightened on Teyla's hand as Ronon struck John for the first time.

Teyla had seen John whipped once before, but the instrument had been one long leather strap. This one consisted of many smaller and narrower strips of material. The marks they left were shorter and thinner, but seemed to make welts that ran just as deep. By her third strike, the leather was coming down on already damaged skin, tearing his flesh like so much shredded meat. By the time Ronon had his turn, John's back was already a raw and bloody mess. She found that she and Rodney both flinched every time the leather struck.

As Ronon finished the fifth blow, he gripped the stick and turned abruptly to Glendon. Teyla was afraid for a moment that he was going to strike him in the face with his own riona. Stepping back, Glendon was apparently experiencing the same thought. With a final growl, Ronon just threw the whipping device down hard on the ground. A layer of dust settled and stuck on the bloody straps of leather.

Stalking over to them, Ronon reached out one hand to Teyla and one to Rodney, lifting them both to their feet. They huddled together, watching as John was released from the chain and caught by the soldiers when his legs gave way. His head drooped forward and he looked like he was unconscious as they dragged him several yards away to a large, black metal box. Funny how Teyla had never noticed the box before now.

The guard haltingly opened the door, jerking his hand away and blowing on his fingers before waving his hand through the air. John was crammed into the metal heat trap, his long limbs packed into a space that was barely big enough. Teyla could only see two small windows, barely large enough for the guards to peek inside. She knew the box would be unbearable now, but the sun would be going down soon. She could only hope for clouds or rain tomorrow.

"He'll never make it in there until tomorrow, not the way he's injured. No food or water . . . it's got to be well over 38 degrees and he's already been sweating all day and –"

"Rodney," Teyla admonished. "John is strong. He will be all right. They will let him out tomorrow and we will care for him."

"You mean what's left of him," the scientist muttered.

"You three!" barked a guard as he approached them. Ronon stiffened and balled his fist up while Rodney automatically backed up a few steps.

"Ronon, do not make it worse," Teyla whispered.

"You need to get to the bunkhouse with everyone else," said the guard, nodding his head behind them. Looking around, Teyla realized everyone was indeed leaving the courtyard.

"We are going," she said calmly, taking Ronon by the arm and pulling him away from the guard. Ronon hesitated, glaring at the guard for several more seconds before he relented and let himself be guided out of the open yard. The next twenty-four hours promised to be long ones.

oOo

Rodney didn't sleep that night and he was pretty sure Ronon and Teyla had the same problem. Teyla had filled him in on exactly what had happened at dinner. He was pissed, but he wasn't completely sure who deserved the lion's share of his anger. He was infuriated at the guards for treating people like they were disposable, as well as Glendon for being the fuel for that particular fire. He was mad at himself and his teammates for not being able to stop John's punishment. The fact that it had been inflicted by the three of them made his stomach coil with nausea. That particular experience would be fodder for many nightmares and future visits to the base psychologist. Then there was Sheppard himself, always playing the hero and trying to save everyone, including those who couldn't possibly be saved.

The old man had died anyway. All of this misery was for nothing. What the crap had Sheppard been thinking?

Working the next day wasn't much better. Rodney watched the sun all day, worrying about how hot is was and wishing for clouds, even if just for a while. He spent the day trying to replace much of the wiring in Glendon's fancy house, which he was becoming increasingly convinced had been installed by monkeys. Glendon caught him standing by the window, trying to see the courtyard from the second floor instead of working and smacked him in the side of the head with something resembling a riding crop. Catching him off-guard, the blow knocked him to the floor. By the time the work day was over, the whole side of his face throbbed.

When the guard took him back to the bunkhouse, he arrived to find Teyla and Ronon waiting for him. Both of them gasped when he looked up at them.

"Rodney, what happened?" asked Teyla.

"It's okay. Glendon caught me looking out the window instead of working."

"We do not have any ice, but we can get a damp cloth to help ease the pain," Teyla said, still studying the injury.

"I'm okay," Rodney said, letting his eyes drop. He noticed a bandage covering most of Ronon's left forearm. "What happened to you?"

Glancing down at the injured limb, Ronon shrugged. "Guard helping me move some heavy limbs let go of his end too soon."

"Well, isn't this a coincidence?" said Rodney sarcastically. He studied Teyla carefully, looking for injuries. She still had bruises on her face and arm from the day before, but he couldn't find anything new. "What about you, Teyla? Did they pick on you too?"

"They did not strike me," she said with a small sigh. "They did seem to constantly demand that I do more and more work."

Taking a look at her from a different perspective, Rodney realized she looked exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped, something Teyla rarely did, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. "I'd say our easy days are over. What about Sheppard?"

"The guard told me they will be removing him from the box soon and then we may take him. We can get a cloth for your face and then wait for them to release him."

"Forget the cloth," said Rodney. "Let's just go get him."

With a nod, Teyla led the way to the courtyard. They arrived to find four guards there, along with Calais, who nodded to them as they approached.

One of the guards stepped forward and unlocked the door of the box, never touching the metal more than a few seconds at a time. He then carefully opened the door to reveal John, still slumped in approximately the position they had left him the day before. His hair, pants, and skin were drenched in sweat.

"John," Teyla breathed out, moving toward his still form. The guards stepped back and allowed them to pull John from the metal box. They could feel the intense heat radiating out into the already cooling air of the evening. Ronon sat behind the pilot, supporting him, while Teyla wiped some of the sweat from John's flushed face. "John, can you hear me? We have you now."

His eyelids twitched briefly and there was a slight moan, but John otherwise remained limp and unresponsive.

"We need to get him cooled down," said Rodney.

Calais stepped up and knelt beside John, placing his fingers against the unconscious man's neck. "He is a strong one," he commented and then let his hand drop. "You may take him to the bunkhouse and tend to his injuries. I will have bandages and medicine brought. If one of you wishes to remain with him during the evening meal, the others may bring your food back to the bunkhouse. I will let the food staff know. You must return the dishes to the eating hall when you are done and clean up any mess that you make."

"Thank you," said Teyla.

"What?" Rodney sputtered. "What are you thanking him for? They are the reason the colonel needs treating in the first place."

"But it was not the doing of Calais and he does not have to allow us this," explained Teyla patiently.

"Oh . . . well, okay." Rodney realized the she was right. Calais had never mistreated any of them and didn't seem to be very high in the pecking order of this place. Glancing over at the bunkhouse keeper, he was a little relieved to see the man did not seem offended and reminded himself that Calais could probably make their lives even more miserable if he wanted. Calais just nodded at him, his expression blank.

"Let's get him out of here," said Ronon. Rodney helped Ronon drag John to his feet, at which time John's head lifted a bit and his eyes slitted open.

"Wha . . . s'goin' on?" he slurred.

"It's okay, Sheppard," said Ronon, pulling the pilot's arm over his shoulder.

"We're taking you back to the bunkhouse," explained Rodney, doing the same with John's other arm.

"Hot," John mumbled, his head dropping down again.

"I'm sure you are," Rodney said as they began walking, pulling their semi-conscious friend along with them. He couldn't help but grit his teeth at the way John's sweat-slicked skin felt against his or the way his soaked BDUs were dampening Rodney's own pants. Normally he would have been protesting how gross everything felt, but he was too busy trying to support half of Sheppard's weight.

It took several minutes to get the colonel to the bunkhouse. When they began encountering the other people, the slaves automatically moved out of their way, clearing the path to their bunks. Pausing at Teyla's bunk, Rodney glanced at his friends. "Should we . . . I mean he's really hot and dirty and I was just thinking . . . maybe we should clean him up because I really don't think we're getting him back up once he's down."

With a deep, almost sad sigh, Teyla dipped her head once. "Rodney is right. We should clean him up before we bandage his back. I will get some clean clothes," she said, stepping over to the small cabinet.

Rodney shifted, pulling up on John's drooping form as he began to sag between them. "Uh, you can't go back there . . . you know . . . to the showers."

"I can help," a voice said, approaching from down the line of bunks. They all looked up to find Baruch standing at the foot of the bed. "If you two can support him, I can manage his clothes."

"Why would you help us?" asked Ronon. "I would think this would make you want to stay away . . . since we're trouble-makers."

Baruch sighed. "You misread me, but that is my own fault. There is making trouble and there is doing what is right. I saw what your friend did out there. He did what we all wanted to do, but lacked the courage. He is an honorable man and I hope if I am ever in need, he will stand with me as he did with Uther."

They stood silently staring at one another for several moments before Rodney had to pull on John's arm again. "Well, I for one am grateful for the help, but if we don't do this soon, I'm going to drop Sheppard into a sweaty pile on the floor. He's a lot heavier than he looks, especially when he's out like a light."

"We're going, McKay, we're going," responded Ronon, beginning the shuffle for the door to the showers.

Rodney gratefully joined in, his back muscles and arm muscles screaming in protest at the prolonged strain. The ordeal didn't turn out to be as bad as he expected because they were able to rouse the colonel enough to get him to help a little by lifting his feet upon command. When Rodney got his first good look at the shredded meat of his friend's back, he had to clamp his mouth shut to stifle the strong gag reflex that followed. John's whimpering moans when they rinsed his back didn't help any. The other slaves cleared out and gave them space, but they didn't hide their stares at John's mutilated flesh.

With Baruch's help, they were able to complete their task in short order, returning John to Teyla's bunk a few minutes later. Lowering him onto his stomach, the three of them turned to thank Baruch for his help, but he was already gone.

"Huh," said Rodney, puzzling over the strange behavior. When he turned back to the bunk, Teyla was kneeling beside the bed, trying to get John to drink some water. Getting his first full look at the pilot's wounds, Rodney noted how raw and mutilated the flesh was, still oozing blood in places. They had only quickly given his back a rinse, knowing that Calais was sending something better to clean the wounds with.

"John, you need to drink some water," Teyla urged, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

Eyelids fluttered and John lifted his head a little. Putting the cup to his lips, Teyla tilted the cup so that a little ran in his mouth. "Not too much," she said softly. After a few sips, his face dropped back to the bed, his eyes closed again and squeezed together tightly in pain. A low moan escaped his lips.

"Is this the man who is hurt? Is this John Sheppard?"

They turned to see a young woman, barely out of her teens. She had brown hair tied back behind her head and bright blue eyes. Painfully slender, she was a little shorter than Teyla and carried a small box of supplies. "I am Rahda and the man your friend tried to save was Uther, my grandfather. I would be pleased if you would let me help."

After the shock passed, Teyla stood and stepped back. "Yes, please," she said, gesturing toward John. "Do you have anything to help with the pain?"

"Sadly, no," she said as she set the box on the foot of the bed. "I have something to cleanse his wounds with and some miacca juice to help fight infection and soothe the burning, but they do not allow pain medicines." Pursing her lips for a second she puffed out a breath and grabbed a jar from the box. "They consider it a waste to use such medicines on the likes of slaves." She stood looking at John's back for a moment. "I . . . I did not realize it was so bad. He was very brave to stand up to the guards for an old man he did not know."

"That is who he is," Teyla said, also looking down at John. "He protects others. It is what he does."

"Who protects him?" she asked softly.

"We do," said Ronon. His expression saddened almost the moment the words past his lips, reminding them all that the damage to his back had been inflicted by his team. "At least . . . when we can." The sadness quickly turned to anger and the Satedan clenched his fists and frowned deeply. "We'll make them pay for this."

"I hope you do," Rahda said, an edge to her voice. "What they did to you . . . it was cruel . . . it was not right. No one should have to do something like that . . . no one."

"I will help you with John," Teyla said and Rodney couldn't help the small smile that lifted a corner of his mouth. Teyla was ever the diplomat, trying to turn their attention away from their building anger and frustration. But he couldn't stop staring at John's back or remembering the way it felt to strike him with the whip. He shuddered, making himself watch the way John fisted the blanket in pain as he made small choking sounds in an effort not to scream or moan. It didn't make up for his part in John's beating, but it was the least he could do.

Rodney and Ronon ended up having to help John sit up while Teyla and Rahda bandaged his torso, wrapping him from armpits to waist. By the time they eased him back onto his stomach, he was visibly shaking. Teyla got him to drink a few more sips of water and then he promptly passed out, much to everyone's relief.

Rahda stood and nodded toward Ronon's bandaged arm. "Would you like me to look at your injury?" she asked.

"No, I'm okay," the big man replied, still staring at John.

Teyla sighed and arched her eyebrow a little. "Ronon, there is blood on that bandage. Let Rahda clean your wound and put on a clean dressing."

Shrugging his shoulders, Ronon sat on the other bunk and Rahda sat down beside him. Rodney sat down beside John's feet, deciding there was no need to keep on his feet when he felt so wobbly. He watched the young girl's skilled hands as she cleaned a jagged cut on Ronon's arm. "You look like you've done this before . . . the treating wounds thing," he commented.

"Yes, you are very skilled," Teyla added.

Rahda glanced at them and bowed her head a few inches in their direction. "Thank you. My grandfather was the healer of my people and he was teaching me to help him and one day take his place. That is how we were captured. One of the women who lived far from the town was having a child and we were on our way to help her. A group of men attacked us and brought us here many cycles ago."

"I'm sorry about your grandfather," said Teyla.

Her hands stilled a moment before continuing to wrap the new bandage around Ronon's arm. "It is for the best. Grandfather has been getting weaker and weaker. There is not enough food and he was too old to work so hard in the fields. He is not suffering any more." She tied off the bandage and then wiped the tear that had strayed down her cheek. "But I still miss him."

Teyla sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Rahda placed the rest of the roll of cloth into the box of supplies and then turned to look at Teyla. "He didn't deserve this. He never tried to do anything but help people. Why . . . I don't . . . " She trailed off as the tears began flowing in earnest and then Teyla was hugging her as she sobbed, finally giving in to her grief.

Rodney had no idea what to do, so he just sat open-mouthed and stared for several seconds. Letting his eyes roam over to Ronon, he felt better when he noticed the big man looked even more out of his element than Rodney felt.

"Evening meal!" someone yelled, making Rodney jump and smack his forehead on the bottom of the top bunk.

"Ow," he moaned, rubbing the offended spot. When he dropped his hand, it was to see both Ronon and Teyla staring at him, their mouths curved upward into a small smile. "Well, I'm sorry, it hurt. What's with the yelling, anyway?"

"Why don't you two go eat," suggested Teyla. "We will sit with John."

Rodney stood, grateful for the out. "Okay, we can bring you both something back if you want."

Teyla nodded. "Yes, that would be good. Thank you."

With a nod, Rodney followed Ronon down the long passage between the bunks and out the door. He hoped their rescue was soon, because at the rate things were going downhill, there wouldn't be much left to rescue before much longer. He was never commenting about a mission being a good one before they arrived safely back in Atlantis ever again.

oOo

Ronon's eyes snapped open and he lay still, listening for whatever stray sound had awakened him. He hadn't been asleep for long if the angle of the moon through the window was any indication. A quiet grunt drew his attention to the bunk below him and he leaned over the edge, peering at Sheppard as he lay on his stomach below. Shifting his head a little on the flat pillow, the pilot's breathing seemed to hitch for a moment before he relaxed back into the bed. Ronon listened to the even breathing for a moment before rolling back over onto his top bunk. That was when he noticed Rodney, currently in Sheppard's normal bunk above Teyla's, was lying on his side watching John sleep.

"Hey," Ronon whispered. "Can't sleep?"

Shifting his eyes to the Satedan, Rodney folded one arm under his head. "Every time I close my eyes, I keep seeing . . . I remember . . . no, can't sleep."

"I know what you mean," Ronon said. He knew he'd spent the better part of two hours trying to turn his brain off so he could get some sleep, but he kept remembering what they did to Sheppard and he kept seeing the ruined mess of his back. As bad as seeing Sheppard in that shape was, nothing compared to knowing that he'd been the one to inflict the damage and the pain. He and the other members of Sheppard's team.

"I know there wasn't anything else we could do," Rodney said. "But somehow that just doesn't help. I can't help but rethink it, try to figure out what we could have done differently."

"If we'd refused, Teyla would be dead. We might all be dead," Ronon pointed out. "We have to concentrate on the fact that we're alive."

"We need to concentrate on staying alive," said Rodney.

Ronon dozed in and out all night, awakened often by John's erratic breathing or muffled groans or Teyla's frequent trips to his bedside to get him to drink some water. He found himself grateful for the morning light that meant the long night was over. He was tired, but almost anything was better than lying in bed when he couldn't relax enough to sleep. He'd experienced plenty of nights like that as a runner.

He and Rodney got dressed and then sat with Sheppard while Teyla got dressed for the day. It was cloudy and humid outside, making the bunkhouse air feel heavy and oppressive. Almost no breeze came through the open windows. Rahda showed up as they discussed what to do about going to breakfast.

"How is John Sheppard this morning?" she asked, leaning over to place her hand on his forehead.

"His sleep was restless," said Teyla. "But I did get him to drink some more during the night. I believe he is in a great deal of pain."

Rahda nodded as if that was what she had expected. "I spoke to Calais this morning and he said John coul d stand down from the work party today, but he will have to return tomorrow."

Ronon watched Rodney's mouth drop open in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? They expect him to work in the fields all day tomorrow? Have they _looked _at what condition he's in? That's just crazy."

"It may be crazy," Rahda said, "but it is what they expect. If he refuses, they will shoot him."

"We are so dead," Rodney muttered, beginning to pace around in a small circle.

"Rodney, we must remain calm," admonished Teyla. "We should worry about one day at a time. John can rest today and we will discuss what to do tonight. We must go eat breakfast so that we can be ready to work. I do not think it would be good for us to cause more trouble so soon."

"She's right, McKay," said Ronon.

Teyla kneeled beside John's head and to everyone's surprise, he opened his eyes and looked at her. "Hey," he said softly.

"Hey yourself," she responded with a smile. "How do you feel?"

John grunted. "Like I've had the crap beat out of me and then stuffed in a metal box for twenty-four hours. But I'm alive. Are you guys okay?" he asked, trying to lift his head to see the rest of the team.

"We're fine," Ronon said.

"S'good," John mumbled, letting his head drop back to the pillow. He closed his eyes and gripped the blanket in his fist. "Just . . . shot'im . . . 'n front of me . . . could'a helped 'im."

Teyla stood up and moved to let Rahda take her place beside John's head. "Colonel Sheppard . . . my name is Rahda. The man you tried to save was my grandfather. I just wanted . . . I wanted to thank you for trying to help him. You mustn't feel bad for what happened. You did what you could." She set her hand gently on his upper arm. "I will remember always the stranger that risked his life to help my grandfather. It is the kind of thing my grandfather would have done for another."

John opened his eyes a crack and squinted at the girl in front of him. "I failed though . . . M'sorry."

Rahda smiled. "My grandfather always said that we must do what we know is right and we must help others whenever the chance is presented. He used to say that it was not the success or failure of the gesture, but that you tried your best. Because that is all that any of us can do."

Blinking slowly, John licked his dry, chapped lips. "Sounds like . . . wise man."

"He was," she replied. "I think he would have liked you. You need to rest today and drink as much water as you can."

John began trying to push himself up on one elbow, but Teyla and Rahda both pushed him back down. "No," Teyla said. "You have permission to stay here and rest today and that is what you must do. We will bring you back some food from breakfast and you should eat if you can."

"Mmmm, stomach not good," John moaned.

"I know," said Teyla, "but you should still try. We will return after breakfast to make sure you have what you need for the day. Will you be all right by yourself?"

"Fine," he mumbled into the pillow.

"It's Sheppard," Rodney said. "What did you think he was going to say?"

"Go," John mumbled and lifted one hand a few inches to wave them away. After a few moments of quiet hesitation, they shuffled down the narrow path between the bunk beds and out the door.

When they returned, John was asleep, so Teyla set the bread they had talked the kitchen workers out of on the small bedside table while Rahda filled a cup with water to put beside it. Knowing of nothing else they could do for the pilot, they heeded the barking orders of the guards and headed out to their respective work areas for the day.

oOo

By mid-afternoon, the storms the guards had been complaining about for days finally materialized in the form of driving rain, rolling claps of thunder, and almost constant lightning. By the time they were herded back to the bunkhouse, everyone was soaked to the skin and shivering in the much cooler air. They found John sitting on the side of the bunk, hanging onto the edge as if he might topple over at any second. He smiled weakly as they tromped in, leaving a trail of muddy puddles in their wake.

"Hey . . . wondered if they were making you work in this," John said, his voice soft and a bit unsteady. Deep shades of blue and purple mottled his face and exposed shoulders and arms. His lower lip was swollen, a large split marring the right side.

"Just long enough to get drenched," muttered Rodney. "How long have you been up?"

John leaned his left hand against the bed to help support himself. "Honestly . . . about five minutes."

Teyla glanced at the plate they had left him that morning and noticed only a couple of bites missing. "Are you hungry? We could try to find you something after we have changed into dry clothes."

John grimaced. "No thanks. I think I need to lie back down to tell you the truth. Being vertical makes my back feel like someone doused it with fuel and lit it afire."

"Can you wait for us to change?" asked Teyla. "We need to change your bandages."

"If you hurry," John replied. He didn't complain, but his features were pulled tight with the effort of keeping upright.

"We will hurry," promised Teyla. Everyone grabbed dry clothes and hurried off to change. It was only a few minutes later that they returned. Teyla brought Rahda and the box of medical supplies. John furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes at the girl.

"It's . . . Rahda . . . right?"

"Yes," she said, smiling as he said her name. "I will try to make this quick so that you may lie back down."

"Yeah . . . that'd be good," John said softly, surprising his team.

When Teyla and Rahda removed the stained bandages, Rodney had to look away. Much of the flayed skin was starting to scab over, but it continued to weep fluids in several places. They cleaned the wounds with cloths doused with the disinfectant they had been given and gently spread the miacca juice across his back. By the time they finished, Ronon was having to help hold the colonel upright.

"Just a few more minutes while we wrap your injuries," said Rahda. "You are doing well."

Rodney had turned back around and watching the two women wrap white cloth strips around John's torso while he bit his lip and buried his fist in the blanket on the bed. Beads of sweat now glistened his forehead and the muscles of his neck stood out like ropes.

"Sheppard," Rodney began, stammering around for a moment. "We . . . uh, well, I . . . what I wanted to say is that I'm sorry . . . I'm so sorry for . . . for you know . . . whipping you with that -"

John looked up at Rodney, his eyes dark and narrow with pain. "Stop. Just stop, Rodney. You did what you had to do to keep us alive, all of you did. Don't apologize for that. I would have done the same thing."

"But –"

"No, no buts. My back will heal. If you hadn't cooperated, Teyla would be dead and . . . I don't think . . . I couldn't . . . " John turned his face away as his voice trailed off.

"Yeah . . . I see what you mean," Rodney acknowledged quietly.

As the women finished tying off his bandages, John let out a shaky breath and turned his face back to his friends. "But . . . when we get back . . . if you feel the need to give me your dessert, I wouldn't turn you down."

Rodney rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward a bit. "In your dreams."

Rahda placed what was left of the supplies back in the box before looking at Teyla. "They are very strange."

Teyla just smiled and nodded. "You have no idea." After moving the stuff from the bed, they helped John turn to lie on his stomach and then gathered on the other bottom bunk to talk.

oOo

"John, it is time to get up." Teyla was disappointed, but not overly surprised at the way John's skin felt overly warm as she gently shook his shoulder.

"Hmmm?" he moaned, blinking several times before opening his eyes to focus on the Athosian. "What?"

"It is time to get up. Calais said that you must work in the fields today. He is only allowed to give you one day of recovery."

"Kay . . . coming," he said, edging his arms underneath him and pushing himself up. His face contorted briefly and his breath hitched for a moment before he steadied himself and twisted around to sit on the side of the bed.

"Are you all right?" asked Teyla.

John didn't answer for a few seconds, but finally looked up at her and tried to smile. "I'll be fine." Pushing himself to his feet, he grabbed the edge of the bunk and closed his eyes, sucking in a sudden deep breath. Teyla automatically reached out to steady him. After a moment, his rigid shoulders slumped down a little and his breathing seemed to even out. Opening his eyes, he smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks. Vertical isn't my favorite position right now," he said. When she continued to study him, John glanced down at his feet. "It's okay . . . I'll be fine. Gotta go . . . " he dipped his head once toward the communal male bathroom.

With a short nod, Teyla let go and watched him move stiffly through the doorway. She had no idea how he was going to work in the fields. She had no idea how he was going to remain upright all day. With a sigh, she moved toward the women's facilities to take care of her own needs.

Breakfast was quiet, with the whole team worried about how John would manage that day and John just concentrating on trying to eat a little something without passing out. Teyla was relieved to see he seemed to have loosened up a little by the time they were escorted to the fields.

The fields were a muddy mess from the rains the day before and the humidity was stifling. John had put on a lightweight shirt over his bandages and it was already stuck to his skin by the time they reached the field. Fortunately they had to harvest some sort of vegetable that grew in strange purple pods from tall bushes grown in rows. Very little bending was required. Just pop the pods off and drop them in the bucket. John seemed to do well until it came time to move the full bucket to the wagon hauling the crops off. Teyla made sure she worked close to John and she knew that he was aware she was keeping an eye on him. He didn't seem to mind, but he refused to ask for help.

The guards prodded him to hurry with the end of their long rifles a few times, but for the most part left him alone. Teyla found that a pleasant and welcome surprise. Apparently he looked weak and in pain enough to satisfy any need they felt for revenge.

By late afternoon, John was beginning to stumble, obviously having a hard time staying on his feet. Teyla was considering her options when he fell on the way to the crop wagon, scattering purple pods all over the muddy ground. Before the angry guard got very close though, several people hurried over and picked up the strewn vegetables, emptying the bucket into the wagon when they were finished. Teyla helped John to his feet as one of the men returned the empty bucket to him before moving back to his own. The guards were so surprised, they didn't threaten anyone or complain.

"You need to get back before you get in trouble," John whispered to Teyla as she led him back to where he had left off working.

"I will," she said, setting his bucket on the ground. "Will you be all right?"

"Fine," John said, eyeing the guard who was headed their way. "Go, now."

Following his eyes, Teyla nodded and quickly left, returning to her bucket several yards down and two rows over. Picking the pods and dropping them in the bucket for several minutes, John finally glanced sideways to look for the guard. Fortunately he'd returned to his regular post and seemed to be content with the pace everyone was working. Once Teyla was satisfied that John was alright and the guard wasn't an immediate problem, she went back to work, wishing the day would just end already.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Once in a Blue Moon – Chapter 3**

John was too exhausted to move. His bruises hurt. The ribs he was beginning to think the guards had cracked when they beat him hurt. Every muscle ached and felt like lead. His head throbbed and his back was on fire. On top of everything, he was hot. Not weather related hot, but the muscle-aching, hot-from-within due to a fever hot. Summary – he felt like crap.

He was lying on his stomach on Teyla's bunk – again. He'd offered to take the top and she had just shaken her head sadly and given him a very firm 'no'. In retrospect, the offer had probably seemed pretty silly since she had practically held him up all the way back to the bunkhouse from the fields. When Ronon had quit laughing, he'd helped him get cleaned up and then the girls had changed his bandages again. He'd even managed to make it to supper. His stomach wasn't thrilled, but it didn't seem to be about to reject the food offering, so he was happy. Mostly he was happy to be lying down.

"What are we going to do about tomorrow? There's no way he'll make it through another day like that. He could barely walk when you got him back here."

Rodney's voice startled John a bit, making him aware that he must have dozed off. Opening his eyes, he realized it was darker than it had been.

"I will stay close to him and try to help. He did all right in the morning, but seemed tired when we returned to work after the mid-day break. If they put us in the karookna fields tomorrow, he will have trouble. Those must be dug from the ground and it requires much getting up and down."

"Maybe we could talk to Calais . . . ask him for another day," said Rodney.

"No," John said, his dry mouth and throat making the word come out rough.

"John?" Teyla was kneeling beside the bed in a moment. "We did not know you were awake."

"Yeah . . . I'm 'wake. I'll be fine . . . just need some sleep."

"Just need some sleep," Rodney parroted sarcastically. "Right, and all I need is an LSD to get us out of here."

"John, would you like some water?" asked Teyla, ignoring Rodney's outburst.

"Yeah . . . water would be good."

Rahda grabbed the cup on the bedside table and returned a few moments later, handing it to Teyla. John decided he wanted the water badly enough to move, so he pushed himself up on one elbow and accepted the cup. He was grateful that no one commented on the slight tremor in his hand as he drank the water. "Thanks," he said, handing the cup back to Teyla. "Look guys, I'll be fine. It's not like we have a choice here."

John hated the way they looked at him. He saw sympathy and worry in their eyes, but he also saw guilt. He'd meant it when he told Rodney not to feel guilty. He held no bad feelings for his team, knowing any one of them would have done anything to trade places with him. In a way, he had it easier than they did. Thinking about what had happened only made him burn with fury towards Glendon.

"I believe you have a fever," Teyla announced.

John lowered himself back to the mattress. "I know. Nothing we can do though. I figure Lorne will be here before too much longer. We just need to hang on until then."

"Lorne?" asked Rahda.

Crap, he really was out of it. He hadn't meant to say anything in front of her. He figured they could trust her, but he shouldn't have been so careless. "Uh, yeah . . . he's my second in command."

Rahda didn't ask any more questions, but she did look curious, and maybe a little hopeful. It was silent for a while and John let his eyes droop closed.

"Hey, look at the moon," Ronon said. John was a little curious, but couldn't bring himself to move again.

"It is a strange color . . almost blue," said Teyla. "Is this the blue moon you and John spoke of?"

"No . . . the one we talked about was all in the timing, not the color," explained Rodney. "It wouldn't look any different than any other full moon. It's just the second one in a month. It does look kind of blue though. Smoke maybe?"

"They set some of the stumps and trees they had cleared out on fire," offered Ronon.

"Our people call a moon of this color a shahacahn . . . a light of good fortune," said Rahda.

"Well, we could sure use some of that," Rodney muttered.

_Ain't that the truth, _John thought. Their voices became muffled and soft and soon faded away to nothing. The next thing John knew, he was startled awake by a loud noise. His head up and his heart racing, an explosion rocked the building, followed by rapid weapon fire. Amidst the sudden motion and loud screaming that surrounded him, it occurred to him that Lorne must have found them and he smiled to himself.

As adrenalin hit and John pushed himself up, he heard Rodney mutter, "About time," from somewhere nearby. By the time he got to his feet, he was awake enough to see his team standing beside him.

"Sounds like they finally found us," said Ronon.

"Yep, that it does," John agreed. "Come on," he said as he began the fight to get down the aisle amongst the throng of scared slaves. The staccato of P-90 fire in the distance was like a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Okay, people, listen up," he shouted. "That will be our people here to get us out of this God-forsaken hole in the ground. Just stay here and remain calm. Once things have settled down and they've secured this place, we'll see that all of you get home."

The crowd had parted to let them by so that by the time John had finished speaking, they were at the front of the building beside the door.

"You'll . . . your people will just let us go?" asked Baruch, who had stepped to the front of the crowd. His expression said that he didn't believe John.

"What else would we do?" asked Teyla.

Baruch grimaced and glanced around. "Take us for your own slaves. Sell us."

John's mouth tightened into a thin line. "We don't buy and sell people and we don't keep slaves. Ever. Once the gate is secured, everyone will be allowed to return home."

A thin woman who probably wasn't as old as she looked gave a timid wave, catching John's attention. "What if we aren't sure where home is any more? I've been here a long time."

John frowned, his gut clenching in pity and anger at the same time. "We'll try to help you find home. And if we don't . . . we'll find someplace better than this."

With a smile, the woman nodded, obviously relieved that she wouldn't have to stay here. John dipped his head once in her direction. He would make sure no one got left behind in Glendon's clutches.

Ronan opened the door and peeked outside for a few moments before turning to the rest of the team. "Okay."

John followed him out the door and Rodney and Teyla followed him. It was darker than he expected, with the moon behind a cloud at the moment. They crept close to the ground across the compound until they reached a clump of bushes next to the building where a lot of the farming equipment was kept. John was thankful for the adrenalin that was masking the pain that should have kept him from doing what he was doing.

"There," Ronon said, pointing to a large group of people. Squinting, John's view was suddenly enhanced by the clouds moving to let some of the moonlight shine down on the team from Atlantis, reflecting off their weapons as they bound a small group of guards.

They stepped out from the tree cover, their hands raised. "Lt. McDaniel," John called out softly, having seen the face of the marine in the lead. "It's Colonel Sheppard and my team." They stopped and waited on the group to reach them, giving the men time to see that it really was them.

"Colonel Sheppard, sir," said McDaniel, lowering his weapon. "Good to see you . Is everyone here?"

"Yes, we're all here," responded John as the group lowered their hands. "I have to tell you that we're pretty glad to see you."

"Took a while to track you down, but we just kept looking," said the young man with a smile. "What's back that way?"

"The big building on the left is the bunkhouse for slaves," John said, not bothering to cover the bitterness in his voice. "They should be fine for now. There may be a few guards scattered around back that way, not sure."

The young lieutenant nodded. "We'll check it out. Sir, maybe you and the others should wait in that bunkhouse until we have the area secured."

John bristled at the suggestion he should just get out of the way, but he refrained from commenting, knowing the soldier was just trying to protect him and his team. "I need a radio before we do anything so I can find out what's going on. Is Lorne in charge?"

One of the men handed John a radio almost before he had finished speaking. "Yes, sir, Major Lorne is leading the mission."

"Major Lorne, this is Colonel Sheppard. Good of you and your men to drop by. I need a status report."

"_Colonel Sheppard, sir, good to hear your voice. We've got one more pocket of resistance to clear up and then we'll have this area secured. I'll just need Lt. McDaniel to confirm that he has his area under control and that'll button down this whole place."_

"He's here with us now, so I'll let him get back to his job. My team and I are going to make our way up to the main house."

"_We'll be out here on the front lawn waiting," _Lorne drawled.

Smiling, John glanced at Rodney, who rolled his eyes. "See you there. Sheppard out." He handed the radio back to the solder. "Thanks. Let me borrow a sidearm in case we encounter any resistance."

"Sgt. Hanson will be accompanying you," said McDaniel.

"I just asked for a weapon," John responded. "We don't need a babysitter."

A tall soldier next to McDaniel handed John his handgun, which John checked over before testing the feel of the weapon in his hands. "Thanks."

"I'd still like Sgt. Hanson to accompany you," suggested McDaniel.

"That's fine," John said, moving over to stand in front of one of the guards. He stared at the man for a while, placing him in his mind. "You, where's the guard that shot the old man?"

The guard continued to stare straight ahead. John placed the barrel of the gun to the middle of the man's forehead and pressed it into the skin until he was sure it would leave a mark. "Where is the guard who shot the old man? If you won't tell me, I'll find someone who will. And I will have no reason to keep you alive."

Taking a deep breath, the guard let his eyes move over to John, studying his expression. After a moment, he must have decided John was serious. "He's back there . . . dead."

John looked over the man's shoulder and then to McDaniel. "We did kill a few of them," the lieutenant said with a shrug. "They're over there." McDaniel pointed behind them and in a few moments, John could just make out several bodies scattered across the ground.

"Did we lose any of ours?" John asked, his voice tight.

"No, sir." John nodded, ignoring the looks he was getting from both the soldiers and his team as he walked toward the dark lumps. Using his foot, he rolled the bodies over one at a time until he found the right one. Sure enough, the man who had taken such pleasure at tossing aside the life of an old man and had then taken things farther by shooting him in front of John lay in the dirt, his unseeing eyes staring up at the night sky.

John studied him for several minutes before turning away. "Let's go," he said as he headed for the house, his team silently falling in place behind him. John stumbled once as they neared their destination, the fire in his back building to a level that made him want to scream at someone. Teyla caught his arm and kept him from face-planting on the ground.

"Thanks," he muttered, probably not nearly as sincerely as he should have. Teyla, being Teyla, didn't say a word. A few seconds later, he made out Lorne and a large group of people standing around in front of the huge residence. As they got close to the crowd, he could see several of them on their knees with their hands clasped on their heads.

"Lorne," John said, wiping away some of the sweat beginning to bead along his forehead and run down his neck. "About damn time you got here."

Lorne shifted a little awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Your kidnappers left a trail, but it wasn't necessarily a clear one. We hit a couple of snags that took us a while to figure out. Is everyone all right?"

John said "yes" at the same time as Rodney said "no", resulting in the pair glaring at each other.

"John has been injured," Teyla reported dutifully, leading John to turn his glare in her direction. She responded with a small smile and a tiny nod that said "I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry."

"We have a medical team in one of the jumpers," Lorne offered, studying his CO a little more seriously.

"I'll be fine till we get back," John said, not really sure if that was true or not. "What's the plan?"

"Well, mostly to get you back, sir," responded Lorne. "Which we seem to have done."

"Yeah, well we aren't done yet. There's a bunkhouse full of slaves down there that I promised could go home and I'm betting there are some more in the house. We aren't leaving them here."

Lorne just nodded, as if he was expecting something like that. "Yes, sir, we'll take care of it." He frowned at John and took a step closer to speak softly. "Sir, you really do look like crap, sir. I wish you'd check in with the medical unit on Jumper Three. We've got everything under control."

"I'll get him there," volunteered Ronon.

John hesitated. On the one hand, if the medical people got a look at him, he wouldn't be leaving that jumper any way but on a stretcher in Atlantis. On the other hand, he could feel his energy draining quickly away and his vision had begun periodically graying at the edges. Passing out in front of everyone would not really send the message that he wanted to send. He glanced at Lorne and was a little disturbed at what he saw. The major had served under him for several years now and he was reading John like an open book.

"That jumper doesn't leave the ground until I know every slave has been taken care of," John said firmly.

Lorne looked like he might argue for a moment, but John's team closed rank around him and they stood in solid support of their leader. With a small sigh, Lorne shook his head and agreed. "Fine, sir, but I'm not responsible for the fallout from Woolsey or Keller."

"Agreed," John said. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir," Lorne said and then added, "Really good to have you back, sir."

"It's going to be really good to be back," John said sincerely. "I don't think we're good slave material."

Rodney snorted loudly. "That's an understatement. As soon as we get back, I'm heading straight for the mess hall for the biggest plate of food I can pile up. Then it's a hot _private_ shower and a soft bed," he said, almost moaning in pleasure.

"Infirmary first," said Ronon.

"And it's the middle of the night, so the mess hall will have fruit and maybe a few pastries," pointed out John.

At Rodney's crestfallen expression, John added, "And coffee of course."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Coffee? I haven't had coffee in forever."

John grinned until his eyes met those of Glendon, kneeling on the ground amidst a group of his guards. John diverted his path to walk over to the scowling man.

"Ah, _Master_ Glendon. Do you remember our little talk when we first arrived? I told you our people take care of each other and I told you that we would never be your slaves. I'll bet you're wishing you'd listened about now."

"You cannot do this! They are my slaves. I paid for them. You have no right to take them." Glendon's face was red with anger and spittle flew as he talked.

John bent down to get in his face, ignoring the pain that almost landed him on his butt. "Yes, I can do this and what's not fair is the way you've treated these people. You can't buy and sell people. What makes you think you are so much better than any of them? Money? Good fortune? More weapons?" John straightened and swayed, fighting the growing darkness of his vision. He wasn't done with this yet. "You know what's a shame? Some of the food you grow is pretty good. Under other circumstances, we might've wanted to work out a trade agreement, help you with some things that you forced us to do, like fixing your irrigation pump. But not like this. You're lucky we don't shoot you and dump your body in the river like you did to Uther. Who knows . . . maybe we will still yet." John just smiled darkly at the way the color drained from Glendon's face as he turned and walked away.

After they'd walked a few steps, Rodney leaned in a little closer. "You wouldn't really shoot him in cold blood like that would you?"

"Nah, not worth it," John replied. "But he doesn't know that."

oOo

"John?" It took a few seconds for it to register that the quiet voice was addressing him. When he opened his eyes and lifted his head a bit to see Teyla's face next to his, he realized he'd dozed off yet again. Lying on his belly across one of the benches in the back of the jumper, John sighed and scrubbed at his face.

"Yeah? Is everything okay?" Using the arm that didn't have an IV stuck in it, he began pushing himself up to a sitting position. Heavy pain immediately flowed down his back, from his shoulders to his waist as the blood shifted in the tissues. Wincing, he let Teyla help him get turned around to face her, careful of the new bandages that had been wrapped around his torso. "What's going on?"

"Only a few of the slaves . . . former slaves have yet to be returned to their home planet. Rahda wanted to say goodbye to you before she left."

Glancing past Teyla to the open hatch, John noticed how much lighter it was outside. Early morning had apparently descended while he'd slept and that annoyed him. He'd meant to keep watch over the activities outside, but the medic that had accompanied the jumper had insisted he lie down for a while after they'd bandaged him up and started him on fluids. It hadn't taken long for exhaustion to combine with the pain meds they'd given him to knock him out.

"John?"

Looking up at her, John nodded. "Yeah, okay, sorry. Guess I kind of drifted there for a minute."

"I think you are entitled, after everything that has happened," she said with a smile. "I will tell Rahda."

He watched her leave and his mind blanked out again until the sound of footsteps on the ramp jarred him back to reality. "Hey," he said as Rahda and Teyla stepped up to stand beside him. He started to get up, but Corp. Bellick, the medic, drifted by about that time and clamped a firm hand on his shoulder.

"You shouldn't stand right now, sir," he said firmly. "You're dehydrated and still running a fever, on top of your injuries. I don't really want to have to pick you up off the jumper floor."

"Fine, I'll sit," John conceded with a frown. He wasn't happy with how weak that made him look, but it was probably better than actually passing out in front of his guest, which he could admit to himself was a real possibility.

"It is all right, Colonel Sheppard," said Rahda. "I just wanted to say thank you before I left."

"I really think I'm the one who should be thanking you," said John. "I'm really sorry about your grandfather. Do you have family left on your home planet?"

Rahda smiled. "Yes, my parents and two brothers still live there. I will be so happy to see them again. I'm sure they think me dead, so it will be quite a shock."

"But the good kind of shock," said John, returning her smile.

"Yes, the good kind," she said. "I wish you and your people well, John Sheppard. Thank you for freeing all of us and not just taking care of your people. Many would not do as you do."

"Hey, I'm not leaving anyone here to serve _Master _Glendon that doesn't want to stay."

"John has taught us all that we do not leave people behind," added Teyla. "It is a philosophy I respect and agree with."

Rahda nodded. "I will not forget either of you or how you have helped me. Peace be to you always."

"And to you," said Teyla.

Rahda hesitated a moment before leaning over to give John a quick kiss on the cheek. Blushing furiously, she turned and hurried down the ramp. John was still trying to recover when he noticed Teyla grinning at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," Teyla said, her voice as innocent as her expression.

With a short snort, John glanced around the jumper, finding that he was alone with Teyla. "How about a hand?" he asked, pushing against the wall in an effort to stand. Teyla grabbed his arm and steadied him as he reached his feet.

"You are not supposed to be standing."

"Yeah, well, it isn't going to kill me and I need to see how things are going. I'll have plenty of time to lie around once we're back in Atlantis." He grimaced at the IV line taped to the inside of his arm and followed the tubing with his eyes to where the bag was wedged into an upper compartment. Reaching up with his other arm, he removed it and looked around for something to do with it. Finding nothing and not particularly wanting to face having it reinserted later, he cuddled the bag against his chest and began tottering toward the hatch.

"John, what are you doing?" asked Teyla, moving quickly up beside him and taking his free arm as if she thought he might fall.

"I'm going outside to check with Lorne and see where we're at. You don't have to hold me up, Teyla."

"I can send Major Lorne in here to report to you."

"I want to go outside and see things myself," John insisted as he led them down the jumper ramp.

"Sometimes you can be so stubborn," Teyla said, her voice bordering on anger.

"Yeah, I've been told that a time or two before," John muttered, spotting Lorne as he stepped off into the grass. Lorne finished talking to one of the soldiers and then turned their way, his eyes widening at the sight of his approaching CO.

"Major Lorne," John said.

"Colonel. Uh, are you supposed to be up, sir?" Lorne asked, eyeing the IV bag John had nestled against his chest.

John sighed heavily before commenting. "Not really, but I'll worry about that later. Where are we in this little operation?"

"That's the final group," Lorne said, tipping his head towards a group of about a dozen people. "They're just about to go through and then we're done. Well, except for that Glendon guy and his people. Man, he's a piece of work. What should we do with them?"

John had been thinking about that. He kind of wanted to dump them out on a planet with a space gate, but that seemed pretty harsh. He really hated the whole _keepers of the Pegasus Galaxy_ thing they seemed to have going. "I guess I'll give him a stern warning about buying and selling people who have been kidnapped and then advise him that we'll be keeping a check on him. Maybe offer to help him figure out a way to hire people . . . either pay them or let them keep a percentage of the crop. People who want to be here working of their own free will and without guards and whippings and sweat boxes."

"Think he'll go for it?" asked Lorne skeptically.

"He will if he isn't really given much of a choice," said John. "I'll take Ronon with me."

"Good plan."

"Maybe," John said, hoping it would work but not really expecting it too. Ronon walked up with Rodney trailing behind, both of them chewing on power bars. "I see you've discovered food."

Brushing crumbs from his lips, Rodney frowned and pointed to John with his half-eaten power bar. "Are you supposed to be walking around carrying your IV?"

"Yes, I am," John lied without flinching. "What are you two still doing here? I thought you'd have gone back by now . . . you know, attacked the mess hall and laid waste to the food stores."

"Funny," Rodney deadpanned. "I see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"Sheppard, we've got company," said Ronon, looking over John's shoulder. Twisting around was definitely not an option, so John had to slowly shift his stance to physically turn his body around. Three men approached, with Baruch in the lead.

"Wonder what he wants?" asked Rodney softly.

"Baruch, are you and your people about ready to leave?" asked John.

"Yes, we are. I saw you and wanted to extend my thanks once again for keeping your word and allowing everyone safe passage to their homes." He glanced around the grounds, now becoming visible in the morning light. "I have been here for many cycles, but I still remember my home and my family. I am anxious to see how they are . . . to sit in my home . . . to see if my wife is still . . . " Shaking his head, he turned back to face John and his team. "Well, enough of that. You are an honorable man, John Sheppard. I wonder . . . where are you from? I do not recognize the clothing of your people."

Now that was a difficult question to answer. "We're from a long way away. We came here to explore, to learn." John glanced at Ronon and then Teyla. "We made some good friends. We also made some enemies. I'm afraid our first encounter with the Wraith was . . . let's just say I riled them up a bit. But we found a home here, so we thought we'd stick around and try to help with the Wraith problem. We have to move around some, to keep our people safe."

Baruch smiled and nodded. "Yes, I understand." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded scrap of tan cloth. "I have written the address of my world on here. I heard some of your people mention you trade with some planets and share knowledge. I believe we would be interested in discussing such things if you desire. You have shown that your people have a strong and good heart."

"I'd like that," John said, accepting the cloth. "I'm guessing I'll be tied up with our doctor . . . uh, healer, fussing over me for a little while, but when I'm back on my feet, we'd like to come visit. I'd be interested in seeing how you were doing."

"I would also like that." Baruch waved his hand in front of the team. "You should all come and we will celebrate being free again. We will eat until we are sick of food!" he said, laughing loudly at the concept. John felt himself smiling and he noticed even Lorne was enjoying the man's enthusiasm. Baruch gave a short bow. "Until then, Colonel Sheppard. Major Lorne, we are ready to return to our home now."

With a nod, Lorne nodded to the two soldiers next to him. "Make sure they get safely to the gate." Turning back to Baruch, he said, "These men will escort you, just in case we missed any trouble-makers."

"Thank you," Baruch replied as he waved his people forward. With a final nod to John and his team, he followed behind one of the soldiers as the man led the way to the gate.

"Colonel Sheppard!"

John flinched, recognizing the voice of the medic that had told him not to get up. At least it wasn't Keller or Carson or he'd really be in hot water. He shifted around to find the man striding quickly over to him, his face dark with anger. "Oops," John said.

"Uh, I don't think oops quite covers it," commented Rodney. "You're toast, my man."

"Sir, I told you to remain sitting or to lie down," huffed the corporal, pulling John's arm out to check the IV connection.

"It's fine, Corp. Bellick, I was careful. See, I still have the IV bag," John displayed proudly. Surely not disturbing the man's handiwork would count for something.

"You need to get back to the jumper, sir, _now_. Dr. Keller's going to have a fit if she finds out I let you walk around in your condition."

John didn't miss the smirk on Lorne's face, nor did he plan on forgetting it. "Hold on just one second," he said firmly, planning his feet on the ground. "Lorne, what's left to do?"

"Well, that was the last of the slaves, so just dealing with Glendon. I can take care of that so you can get back to Atlantis."

John opened his mouth to protest, but Ronon took him by the arm and began pushing him toward the jumper. He was a little disturbed by how easy it seemed to be. "Ronon, I can walk there on my own, thank you."

"Just because you can doesn't mean you will. You need to be in the infirmary, so just cooperate and make this easier on all of us," the Satedan said.

The next thing John knew he was being manhandled down onto a bench. Pushing his shoulders forward, he made sure to keep his back a safe distance from the wall of the jumper. The painkillers had dulled his senses some, but not enough to actually let his scoured spine touch anything. "Watch it, guys!" he warned as they tried to push him into leaning against the side of the jumper. The pressure let up immediately as they stepped away from him.

"Oh, gosh, sorry Colonel," Rodney sputtered. "You wouldn't have this problem if you just let go and take it easy like a normal injured person."

Rodney continued his monologue, complete with cliché name-calling, but it had all faded into an annoying buzzing noise as the inside of the jumper began a lazy tilt to one side. The lights seemed to fade as well, but John realized about that time that it was him tilting sideways, not the jumper. Teyla was over him looking worried and then a soothing darkness slid across his line of sight and everything faded completely away.

oOo

John knew where he was even before he opened his eyes. The distinctive smell, the feel of the narrow bed, the cloth of the scrub pants against his legs . . . infirmary. He was lying on his stomach again, the IV still in his arm. Yawning, he blinked his eyes open and let his eyes wander around one end of the room. All he could see from his vantage point was two empty beds and the wall.

With a grunt, John managed to lift himself enough to turn his head and look the other direction. Dr. Keller was talking to a nurse. Meeting his eyes over the top of a data pad, she finished her discussion and headed his way with a broad grin.

"Colonel Sheppard. Good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

John considered the question. "Kind of like Godzilla kicked my butt. On the plus side, my back is only smoldering at the moment instead of flaming."

Keller nodded. "You've still got a bit of fever, but the fluids are helping and we've got you on IV antibiotics."

"How long have I been here?"

"They brought you in early the day before yesterday , so about two and a half days ago. We had you up a couple of times, but you may not remember. You were pretty drugged at the time and we were having trouble keeping your temperature down."

Thinking about it, John had a vague, dream-like impression of being walked around the infirmary and helped to the bathroom. "Hmm, weird." Shaking it off, he glanced around the room. "Where is everyone?"

"Mr. Woolsey sent them back to the planet to, uh, persuade the man who kept you captive not to buy slaves any more. I think they're showing him how he can operate his farm with legitimate workers. Ronon and the others went along to make sure he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to buy any more people. He said something about having Lorne give a weapons demonstration."

"Cool," John said, wishing he could see the look on Glendon's face when they hit something with a drone. Sighing, he realized he'd have to settle for the Cliff Notes version.

"Don't worry, they'll be back in time for supper. Rodney said to be sure you were awake enough not to drool on your pillow while they were here."

Narrowing his eyes, John snorted. "I don't drool."

Keller just looked at him for a moment and then turned her head away. "If you say so."

John shifted around on his elbows and eyed his pillow, trying to see if it looked damp. "Well, if I did, it was the drugs."

Keller smiled at him. "Get some rest, Colonel."

"I want to see Lorne when they get back," he said firmly, purposely not posing it as a question.

"We'll see how you're doing," she responded, gently pushing down on his shoulder until he lowered himself back to the mattress.

"I'll be fine," John said, unhappy about the way Keller seemed to be patronizing him. "Look," he said, pushing back up as soon as she removed her hand. "I'm still the ranking officer of this base and I need to know what's going on . . . what threats are out there."

Keller smirked at him, making John even more irritable. "Oh, please, Colonel. We've managed for the last few weeks, I think we can make it until you're back on your feet. Now lie down and rest or I'll make sure you have no visitors until tomorrow."

John harrumphed, but lay back down as directed. "I had a nice talk with Corp. Bellick, by the way," Keller informed him.

Crap, he really was screwed.

oOo

Jerking awake, John tried to sit up, quickly abandoning the movement when his back pulled painfully. Dropping his chest back to the mattress, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the pillow for a moment, stifling the scream he wanted to emit. He had to move his face to the side, however, to accommodate his rapid breathing, a product of the nightmare that had startled him out of his slumber.

"Colonel Sheppard, are you all right?"

Opening his eyes again, he looked into the face of Amy, one of the nurses. She was leaned over to put her face at his level, a frown wrinkling the skin of her forehead.

"Sorry . . . nightmare," he said a little sheepishly.

"No problem. I was just on my way to check on you anyway. How do you feel?" Her fingers slipped around his wrist, feeling for his pulse.

John blinked a few times, noticing the low lights for the first time. "What time is it?"

"It's almost three a.m. and you didn't answer my question," she said, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

Three a.m.? He must have dozed off after talking to Keller. "Kind of hot and achy." He was relieved when the band around his arm finally began to loosen with a hiss.

"Hmm, pressure's still a little low. How's your back?"

John considered the question for a moment. "Hurts, but not too badly. Did I miss my team earlier? Jennifer said they were coming by after they got back from the mission." The next thing he knew, a thermometer was pressed snugly against his ear.

"Uh, well, actually that was yesterday, or rather day before yesterday. Your fever went back up and you've been pretty disoriented the last thirty hours or so." At the sound of a beep, the pressure in his ear was removed and the nurse sighed. "Still over 100. You just hang tight, Colonel, while I check with Dr. Strauhan."

Tired of lying on his stomach, John tried to shift more onto his side, but the sudden flash of pain left him panting and sweating. He hated being this weak and losing so much time.

"John, we can help you if want to try to lie on your side." John looked up to see Nick Strauhan come around his bed to the side, Amy beside him.

"Yeah, sure . . . kind of tired of this position."

Nick chuckled. "I'll bet. Just let me get your pain meds on board and then we'll see if we can prop you up a little, make you more comfortable." The nurse handed Nick a syringe and he injected it into John's IV port, handing the empty back to her.

"I'll just grab a couple of pillows and be right back," she said.

"Anything hurt besides your back?" Nick inquired. "The rest of you is pretty bruised up as well."

"Everything else just kind of aches. The pain in my back is more like a fire . . . sharper."

Nick frowned a bit. "We've been having a bit of an infection problem with a couple of places on your back. That's probably keeping the pain level up and I think that's what's making this fever so hard to get rid of. Alien bacteria seem to respond to our Milky Way antibiotics for the most part, but sometimes on their own schedule, not ours. This is one of those times."

John grunted. "Is that why I'm so weak and keep falling asleep for so long?"

"Partly," Nick said, turning as Amy returned with some pillows. "Okay, let's get you on your side. The bruising is much more extensive on his right side, so let's put him on his left. John, just let us do the work and let me know if it hurts too badly."

"Kay," John said, tensing for the anticipated movement. A small groan escaped as they rolled him to his side, but they had him settled against the pillows in record time. Once his body adjusted to the new position, he felt better.

"How are you doing?" Nick asked. "Is that going to be all right?"

"Yeah . . . better," John said. He was sweating again and his heart rate was up some. He was also noticing how dry his mouth was. "Water?"

"Just a little," Nick said. "Thanks Amy, we should be okay now." As the nurse left, Nick placed a straw up to John's lips and he immediately began to pull in the cool liquid. He'd barely started when Nick pulled it away, leading John to groan in protest. "Not too much at one time or you'll get sick. You know the drill by now. You can have a little more in a few minutes."

John watched as Nick pulled up a chair and turned it backwards before straddling it so that his face was eye-level with John. "How are you really?"

Hating those kind of questions, John sighed. "You tell me. I've apparently been back, what . . . almost four days now and I don't seem to remember much of it."

Nick nodded. "Well, first of all you've lost weight . . . you all have. From what we saw and what the others told us, they fed you enough to keep you alive, but not much else. Especially with the type labor you were doing. Dr. McKay lost the least, but I think that's because his work wasn't quite as physical." Nick cringed and leaned forward. "Just don't tell him I said that."

With a small chuckle, John nodded. "I won't."

"Thanks. That would probably get me in all kinds of trouble. Anyway, you were also suffering a rather nasty case of heat exhaustion, on top of the trauma and blood loss from the whipping and the beating they gave you. There was a little internal bleeding, but it had already resolved itself by the time you got back here. Other than that, a lot of severe bruising and signs of a mild concussion. Add infection to that and it's going to take your body several days to recover. Weeks if you're looking for full recovery."

"How long in here?" asked John.

Nick shook his head. "Oh no you don't. That's Keller's decision, not mine. I wouldn't look for it to be anytime real soon though."

"Yeah, I figured."

Nick smiled at him but it was kind of a sad smile. "Truthfully, if we let you out today, could you make it to your room?"

John considered how drained he felt just from their short talk. "No, probably not."

With a nod, Nick reached out to quickly grip his upper arm. "Point taken I hope. Now get some rest."

"Okay. Thanks for the update and helping me get into a different position. Can I see my team tomorrow . . . if I can stay awake long enough?"

"Sure," Nick replied. "One more sip before I go," he said, grabbing the cup and putting the straw to John's mouth. Once again, it was removed all too soon. John closed his eyes and heard the doctor moving around putting the chair back. He was asleep before Nick's footsteps faded away.

oOo

The next time John awoke, it was midmorning. Kelly was in the middle of taking his temperature when his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, sleepyhead," she said with a bright smile.

"Hey," John said around a yawn. "Thought you were on nights."

"I am," she said, writing on his chart. "I'm just filling in for Carrie today. She has a hot lunch date with some guy in Engineering."

"Lucky her," John said. "How'm I doin'?"

"Better," she said with a small head-bob. "Your temperature's been hovering right at a hundred today and that's the lowest it's been." She looked at her watch. "Feel up to a few visitors?"

"Yeah," he said quickly, glancing around the infirmary. "Is my team here?"

"They will be in a minute," she said. "They sat with you for a while this morning and then they had a meeting with Mr. Woolsey. They said they'd be back around 1030 hours to check on you and it's almost that now."

"Great," said John. "It'll be good to finally get to see them."

Kelly set the chart down and poured some water in the plastic cup on the nightstand. "Would you like a drink?"

"Reading my mind, Kelly. Definitely reading my mind."

Grinning, Kelly popped a straw in the cup and held it to John's mouth as he edged up on one elbow. She let him drink several big swigs before pulling it away.

"How long before I can drink an actual glass of water?" John moaned.

"You can now if you do it slowly. You can have some more in a couple of minutes. Just take it slowly and not too much at one time. I think Dr. Keller was hoping you felt like some soup later on."

"That sounds great, actually. I'm kind of hungry."

"Hey, look, he's awake!" Rodney said loudly as he burst into the infirmary.

"Dr. McKay," Kelly hissed. "This is an infirmary and I'll need you to keep your voice down."

His eyes wide, Rodney stammered a second. "What . . . I . . . oh, . . . voice down, right. Sorry."

"Thank you," Kelly said. "You can visit with Colonel Sheppard, but don't tire him out too much. Let me know if you need anything." With a smile, she nodded at his team and left.

Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon lined up on the side of the bed John faced and were soon joined by Major Lorne. With John on his side instead of his stomach, he had a better view of them all. "So, how did it go when you went back to the planet? Jennifer told me about the mission."

Lorne and Ronon exchanged a small smile that could only be described as devious. "Well," Lorne drawled. "I think it's safe to say that Glendon guy won't be getting into any trouble any time soon. We convinced him that when we came back to check on him periodically, he'd better not have anyone working for him under any type of coercion."

"Or else," added Ronon.

John looked at the two smirking men for a second. "Or else what?"

"We may have left that up to his imagination," said Lorne.

John felt a grin slide across his face. "Sounds good. I probably wish I had been there, don't I?"

"Yep," Ronon said simply.

"Yeah," John sighed. "I kind of thought so. Unfortunately, I've been kind of out of it lately."

"We noticed," said Rodney. "Has Jennifer scolded you yet? I told you not to be walking around carrying an IV bag."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he mumbled, shifting positions against the pillows. Noting the weapon strapped to Ronon's leg, John perked up a little. "Hey, Ronon, you got your gun back."

Patting the handle almost lovingly, Ronon grinned as big as John had ever seen. "Yeah, Lorne and his men got her back when they found Batair and his group. Don't think they'll be kidnapping anyone any more either."

"That's good," John said, mentally promising to get the full story later, when he had more energy.

"How are you feeling John?" asked Teyla.

"Fine, mostly. Fever keeps me hot and I'm still kind of sore. Nick helped me shift positions a little, but I wish I could turn over. The whole laying on my stomach thing is starting to get old." John instantly regretted the comment when looks of guilt crossed his teammates' faces. "Hey, I didn't mean . . . look guys, I meant it when I said you did what you had to do. I wouldn't change it if I could. My back will heal. _We_ will heal. Hey, it beats turning into a bug or being fed on by a Wraith any day of the week."

"And how sad a commentary is that of our lives?" asked Rodney. "I guess it's probably better than getting high as kite on Wraith enzyme."

"Or getting shot in the butt with an arrow," added John with a small smile.

"You just can't let that go, can you?" asked Rodney. John just laughed.

"How about being hunted by Wraith for seven years, only to escape them and then be recaptured to run again," offered Ronon.

"And then there is being kidnapped by Michael and experimented on before being forced to give birth on a hive ship in the middle of an escape," said Teyla, adding in her own pet experience.

"Wow," Rodney said. "We really are a sad bunch."

"I feel kind of left out," commented Lorne. "All I have to offer is being kidnapped and drugged by Ladon and having my death faked. Oh, and the broken leg when the building collapsed on us. No biggie."

"Boring," Rodney sighed, leading Lorne to shrug his shoulders.

"See," John said. "Just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy." As heads nodded in agreement, John was glad to see the tension from before had faded from the expressions of his teammates . . . his friends. And that was the real point. Not all the bad things that had happened, but that they had stuck together through all of them. They had been there for each other, supported each other, and they were all alive and together as a result. A team that clicked like they clicked in every important way came along only once in a blue moon.

THE END


End file.
